


Tarnished

by Bremol



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Marital Abuse, Physical Abuse, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 70,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4147074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bremol/pseuds/Bremol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That day at the sea changed Elsie Hughes' life.  Season 4 CS spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a chelsie-anon prompt on tumblr. The prompt was: _Everything went to the cottage last week, just a few bits & bobs on the desk to be packed. Reaching for the cotton wool, my fingers caress the familiar ridges of the spiral seashell, the chips & dings from knocking about on the desk over the years. I feel a bit like this old shell, battered & worn but still solid & reliable. Thinking back to the outing, of walking hand in hand into the sea, combing the beach for seashells at sunset, a turning point in my life, our life...what happens next? _
> 
> Once you begin to read, you'll see that I might have tweaked the prompt a bit and that it doesn't appear right away in the story but later. I have no idea why this is what popped into my head when I read the prompt, but it is. Maybe because Season/Series 4 was so massively depressing with only a few bright spots? Or maybe because I was in the middle of reading the Call the Midwife books and was in the section that deals with the way women were treated? I don't know, but I do know this is dark. You are hereby warned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_It was innocent enough. We’d merely held hands after all, but it had changed things. At least for me. I couldn’t be sure about Mr. Carson as I’d not had a chance to speak to him in private before leaving to return home. It was something I planned to do first chance I had after he returned to Downton._

_Entering the library, I find Lady Edith staring out the windows. “You wished to see me, My Lady?”_

_“I did,” she answered as she turned around. “I’m afraid I’ve been left with a terrible duty.”_

_I frown and give her a puzzled look. “I’ll do what I can to help, My Lady, if only you’ll tell me.”_

_“You can help by telling me it isn’t true.”_

_“I’m afraid I don’t understand, My Lady.”_

_“I received a call from Papa,” she cleared her throat. “Lord Grantham. He says that Mr. Barrow has made accusations against you and Carson. Accusations that can,”_

_I hold up my hand to stop her. “It is all on me, My Lady. Mr. Carson has no fault in this. It is all mine. It is always the fault of the woman in things such as these. We are always to blame. It is our duty not to lead them astray,” I tell her, not believing one word uttered from my mouth. “I understand now the duty you spoke of and I’ll save you the task. All I ask is that I’m allowed the time to pack my things.” I can see the young woman’s startled expression, her eyes sad and filled with pain I don’t understand. Surely it can’t be for me? We’ve never been especially close._

_“Mrs. Hughes, are you saying it’s true?”_

_“I’m saying, My Lady, that I’ll take the blame for whatever Mr. Barrow has accused us of. Mr. Carson has been with the family longer than I and is more highly valued. He is needed for the running of Downton, whereas I can be replaced. Anna would do nicely, if I may be so bold as to suggest a replacement when I’ve been such a disgrace.”_

_“I’m sorry, Mrs. Hughes. I don’t know what to do. I told Papa that this should wait until he and Mama were here, but he insisted that I get to the bottom of it at once because we can not afford the scandal it would bring upon this house.” Swallowing, Lady Edith continued, “I can’t give you references because you’ve admitted guilt, though I doubt the truth of it, but I can grant you the time needed to pack your things.” Looking back out the window, the young woman valiantly tried to hide her sniff. “You may go, Mrs. Hughes.”_

_“Thank you, My Lady. You’ve been most gracious,” I whisper before turning and quietly leaving the room._

_I should have known better._

_I should never have taken the chance, knowing that Thomas was about._

_I know what he’s up to, what he’s plotting._

_He thinks to get Mr. Carson sacked so he’ll have the run of this house._

_Hell will freeze over before I give him that._

_I love Charles Carson._

_Have done for twenty years, I suppose._

_I’ll not see his good name tarnished by the likes of Thomas Barrow._

_I’ll take the burning of a thousand suns upon my brow before Mr. Carson loses the one thing he holds most dear._

_If I have to leave this house, my home, my friends, without references, so be it._

_No one knows the true reason I’ve left. Daisy and the others have been told that my sister is ill and I must go to her. As I’m walking to the station, my belongings in the bags I carry, I feel the weight of what has happened bearing down upon me._

_I’m leaving behind everything I hold dear._

_I’m leaving behind my good name, my reputation._

_It’s worth it, I’ve told myself the last hours as I hastily packed._

_If I save Mr. Carson from losing his reputation, his good name, then every humiliation I’ll endure once the truth comes out, is worth it._

_I do intend to go to my sister’s, though I’ve not sent word._

_I don’t care what happens to me, really, it’s Mr. Carson that I care about. If he were to be sacked by his beloved family it would break his heart._

_And if there’s one thing I know in all of this…_

_The only heart that I’ll allow to be broken because of me…_

_Is my own._

Beryl’s tears rolled down her cheeks as she read the account of that day. Sniffing and wiping at her eyes, she turned her attention to the letter that had accompanied this one, written by Elsie’s brother-in-law. “Why did you write it down, Elsie? And why did your sister hide it in the back of her drawer?” she whispered as she held the paper to her chest, the ache there nearly unbearable. Elsie’s brother-in-law had only just found Elsie’s letter, three years after the woman had left in disgrace.

Three years after Charles Carson had been broken. Something Elsie hadn’t foreseen.

Beryl narrowed her eyes, an all too out of place evil smile on her face.

Three years after Thomas Barrow got his.

Beryl still couldn’t believe how the Dowager had gone out of her way to get rid of Barrow once she’d seen first hand what Elsie’s leaving and disgrace had done to the former butler. Out of all of the ones she’d thought would believe that Elsie hadn’t done anything wrong, the old bat hadn’t been one of them.

But to the surprise of all and sundry, she’d took it upon herself to find Barrow a position in a house in London. One that she knew would provide him with the payback he deserved for what he’d done. Beryl knew from her friend, the cook in the house Barrow had moved to, that the Lord and Lady of the house were holy terrors. She also knew that Thomas Barrow had become the outcast in the house, having to watch his p’s and q’s to keep himself out of prison.

The Lord and Lady of his new residence weren’t as forgiving and lenient as Lord and Lady Grantham.

“He deserves everything that comes to ‘im,” she growled. Folding the letters and putting them back in their envelope, she stood and took off her apron then slipped the envelope into her skirt pocket. She had an errand to run. A friend to see.

She would go to Charles’ cottage and let him see the letter.

Let him read Elsie’s account of that day.

Let him see that the woman loved him enough to sacrifice everything.

Loved him enough to become tarnished.


	2. Chapter 2

Charles, forehead in his hand, stared down at the letter Beryl had brought. “Why, Beryl?” he asked as he finally looked up at her. “Why would she do this?”

“Can’t you see the answer in the letter?” Beryl asked him.

“She says she loved me. I don’t understand why she never told me.”

“Why did you never tell her?”

“I,” he started then shook his head.

“Exactly. She knew you would never leave the family.”

“But I did.”

“Yes, you did. The fact that the family believed Barrow’s story,” she rolled her eyes. “Well, it doesn’t say much for their intelligence.”

“But Lady Edith didn’t.”

“No, she didn’t. Elsie knew that the young lady didn’t believe her.”

“Lady Mary never believed it, either.”

Beryl swallowed at the pain she heard in the man’s voice. “No, she didn’t.”

“She’s gone now.”

“Yes, she is. Both of the women that loved you are gone, but one of them you can bring back.”

“How? I don’t even know where Elsie is.”

Beryl leaned across the table and rested her hand on Charles’ arm. “Do you still love her?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I’ll always love her.”

“Then find her. You know how to start.” Beryl pointed to the address on the envelope. “When you receive an answer to your inquiry, go to the only other person that can help you. You know that she will. You’ve always been her favorite.”

“She’s been very good to me.”

“And she’ll do everything she can to help you find our Elsie. Take her the letter, Charles. Let her read it. Let her see what truly happened that day.”

“I can’t bother her. You know she’s been ill.”

“I do, but I also know, she’d want you to come to her. She’s stood behind you through all of it, Charles. You know that she was very angry with her son over what happened. Their relationship has never been the same since.”

“No one’s relationship has been the same.”

“Ours has remained.”

Charles smiled tiredly as he nodded at Beryl. “Yes, it has, but at what cost to you?”

“It’s never mattered to me. I was never afraid of what would happen to me.”

“Never?”

“No. Daisy promised me a place to live.”

“Our sweet Daisy. Is she happy?”

“She’s very happy. Mr. Mason made sure she was well looked after before he passed. Besides all of that, you know that Lord Grantham would never let me go, no matter how angry he might be that I supported you.”

Charles nodded. “Never would have found someone as good as you to be your replacement, and it would have been foolishness to let another house hire you away.”

“Exactly right. It would have caused talk that they couldn’t afford so soon after their butler left. That caused enough talk.”

Charles huffed. “Of course it did. First the housekeeper leaves, then the butler. People would have been even more suspicious if the only other senior servant left, suddenly retired.”

“I wanted to leave, but Daisy needed me to stay. I’ve always felt like I betrayed my friends by staying.”

Reaching out a shaky hand, Charles rested it over Beryl’s. “No, Beryl. You were right to stay. She wouldn’t have wanted you to leave Daisy.”

Beryl nodded. “Now that Daisy’s gone, I’m thinking it’s my time to go.”

“Will you go to Daisy?”

“I will but only after you’ve found our Elsie. I’ll be telling Lord Grantham of my intent to retire and when I do, I’ll stay here to watch over your home while you’re looking for Elsie. When you return, I’ll go to Daisy.”

“Thank you, Beryl.”

“No need for thanks, Charles. I want her home as much as you do.”

“I know you do.”

“Take the letter to the Dowager today, Charles. Don’t waste one second more.”

“I thought you said I should send a letter to Elsie’s family first.” Charles raised an eyebrow as he studied his friend.

“I did, but,” Beryl bit her lip. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m afraid for her.”

 

~*~

 

Violet Crawley had never been one to show emotions openly, but the few times in the past that she had, it had been when in the presence of Charles Carson. The last time it had been pain over Sybil’s death, this time – this time it was over what had happened to Downton’s former housekeeper.

“Carson, I,” she started then cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say. What do you need? I assume you’re going to look for our Mrs. Hughes.”

Charles blinked at the Dowager’s use of our. She and Elsie had never really gotten on. “I _am_ going to look for her,” he finally answered.

“Then whatever you need is yours, Carson.”

“I don’t need anything at the moment, My Lady, but if I do, I shall know who to trust.”

“I’ll do what I can, Carson. My son was wrong, I’ve made my thoughts on that abundantly clear. I know how Mr. Barrow was, how he coveted your position. I always knew he’d been trying to have you sacked.”

Charles nodded and looked down at the letter. “She didn’t have to do this. I just don’t understand.”

“She did what she had to do to protect you, Carson. I’m sure she knew that, while you might not have been sacked, you surely would have lost favor and respect if the whole mess had gone on. Barrow was very good at manipulation.”

“And yet so many have left because _I_ did.”

“Yes, that’s true. And Mrs. Patmore has born the brunt of my son’s anger more times than I care to admit because of her support.”

“She said she didn’t care, she’s sure in her job.”

“Of course she is. My son is many things, but he isn’t stupid enough to let go of one of the most coveted cooks in the area.”

“She’s going to retire.”

Violet nodded. “I’m not surprised. Things have changed, Carson. Our world has changed and Downton can not survive much longer.”

Charles sighed as he folded the letter. “Not unless His Lordship changes to the new ways.”

“Something I’m afraid will never happen with Mary gone. Tom can’t fight him on his own.”

“Mr. Branson has been telling me he thinks he’ll go to America.”

“I will hate to see my great granddaughter go, and I’ve grown quite fond of Tom, but maybe it’s for the best. He’s not been very happy here since Matthew was taken from us.”

“And he lost the person he always turned to when Elsie left.” Charles didn’t even realize he’d called the former housekeeper by her first name.

Violet sighed, “You’ll find her, Carson, and you’ll bring her home.”

“But is this home?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Carson. Only she can answer that question.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts the dark part of the story. Domestic violence was a thing a lot of women then (and a lot live with it now sadly).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking around, she felt tears well in her eyes as she thought of how she’d wound up in this place, married to a man she didn’t love or even like.

_“Elsie? Whatever in the world are you doing here?”_

_Elsie walked into her sister’s house, hoping that her brother-in-law was around. “I’ve come to stay for a while, if that’s alright,” she answered quietly._

_“Elsie Hughes, what have you done?”_

_“I haven’t done anything!”_

_“You’ve not left your blessed Downton for more than a week for years, and now you say you’ve come to stay for a while. Out with it.”_

_Elsie looked down at her shoes. “I’ve been let go.”_

_That wasn’t what the older woman had been expecting. “Let go? You mean they’ve sacked you? Without reference?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Again, what did you do?”_

_“I,” Elsie started but stopped when she heard her brother-in-law saying her name from behind her._

_“Elsie? Hello, Lass.”_

_Elsie turned and crumbled as her brother-in-law wrapped his arms around her. He’d always cared more for her than her sister. “I’m in trouble, Sean,” she whimpered._

_“She’s been sacked.”_

_“Alba!” Sean hissed at his wife._

_“It’s true.” Elsie whispered as she pulled away from her brother-in-law._

_“But Elsie, why? They love you.”_

_“I did something that could have brought scandal on the house.”_

_“You?” Sean asked, his face showing his clear disbelief._

_“I’m going to ask again, Elsie, and I want an answer. What did you do?” Alba asked, her voice stern, her eyes cold._

_“I held Mr. Carson’s hand while we were at the beach.” Elsie answered truthfully._

_Sean shook his head and frowned. “That’s all?”_

_“They sacked her, Sean. It can’t be all.”_

_“We were accused of impropriety by the under-butler. I was asked about it and took the blame. I was the one that offered my hand and led Mr. Carson astray.”_

_Sean couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. He knew his sister-in-law well, and knew that she was the most virtuous woman he’d ever met. “I don’t believe you.”_

_“It’s the truth.” Elsie insisted. “I’ve only come to stay until I can find work. Once I’ve found something, I’ll leave and not be a bother anymore. I’ll help with the chores while I’m here.”_

_“You most certainly will.” Alba growled. “Well, you know where the spare room is.”_

_Elsie nodded and moved to where she’d dropped her bags. “Thank you.”_

_Sean watched his sister-in-law walk away then turned to his wife. “When are you going to stop treating her like that?”_

_“What reason do I have to stop? She’s considered a fallen woman now, Sean. The shame she’ll bring,” Alba rolled her eyes. “She’s never thought of anyone but herself.”_

_“That’s not true, Alba, and you know it.”_

_“I know that she brought shame on our family when she left Joe Burns for a life in service. She’d been promised to him. Her leaving made our parents fools.”_

_Sean shook his head. “You’ll be the death of me, Alba.”_

Elsie was startled out of her remembering by the sudden grip on her arm. “I’m sorry,” she breathed through the pain.

“When I call for you, I expect an answer.”

Elsie closed her eyes at the sting of tears brought on by the slap across her cheek. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry. What was it you needed?” she asked, her eyes lowered in submission.

“I have to leave for an hour. You’re to dress properly and come out to watch the shop. No talking other than when you’re spoken to. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’ll deal with you over this disobedience later.”

“Yes, Sir.” Elsie answered, her voice low. She knew what he meant, knew what would happen after he closed up shop for the day. Hurriedly she stood up and made her way to where her shop clothes were kept. Pulling out a dress, she held it up for him to approve. “Will this do, Sir?”

“It will be fine. Don’t forget your corset.”

“Yes, Sir.” Elsie watched her husband turn and leave the room, then rushed about changing into the clothing he kept for her to wear when he allowed her out in public. Which generally meant Sunday mornings for church only to show the people of this small burgh how respectable he’d made the fallen woman he’d taken as his wife.

Of course, the whole of the burgh knew why he’d taken a wife. He’d been forced to. It was take a wife or be banished.

_“You what?” Elsie asked her sister._

_“I’ve found a man to marry you and make you respectable again. Rev. Jameson will be here this afternoon so you need to pack your things.”_

_“Alba, I don’t want to marry. I’ve just come from finding a position that will provide me with a place to stay.”_

_“And how long will it last when they learn what you’ve done?”_

_“I,”_

_“Exactly. Now go pack.”_

_Elsie stared at her sister, wondering when she’d turned completely into their mother. Hanging her head, she turned and made her way to her room to pack, making the decision to leave before her sister could pawn her off on the visiting minister._

Except that hadn’t been how things happened. Her sister had lied to her about when the minister would arrive.

Looking herself over in the mirror, she turned and made her way out to the shop. “I’m here. Am I presentable, Sir?” she asked as she stood in front of her husband, waiting for his inspection.

Looking Elsie up and down, Connell nodded. “I’ll return within an hour. Remember what I told you.”

“Yes, Sir. Not to speak unless spoken to.”

“Very good.”

Elsie watched the man leave then sighed a breath of relief for the hour of reprieve she’d been granted. Moving to sit on the stool behind the counter, she sat with her hands in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankle, knowing that was how she was expected to sit. She knew that if she slipped in any little thing, she would be caught. It was as though the man had eyes in the back of his head, and since she knew she was already in trouble for not responding to his summons in a timely fashion earlier, she didn’t want to add to the punishment.

 

~*~

 

_“Why, Alba? Why did you lie to me?”_

_“Elsie, don’t cause a scene. You’ll go with Rev. Jameson. You disgraced yourself, so you are no longer in charge. I’m the elder sister, the head of this family, and I will not allow you to bring shame upon the Hughes name again. We’ve been lucky up until now, but old Mrs. Twillet has become suspicious. You don’t know her, but I do, and I know it won’t be long now until she discovers the real reason you’re here.”_

_“I can leave on my own if you don’t want me here. I told you that I found a position.”_

_“And again I ask, what happens when they learn the truth?”_

_“Alba, they took me without references. That alone isn’t done, but just the fact that I was housekeeper at a big estate was enough to gain me the position.”_

_“Stop arguing, Elsie. Go and get your things.”_

_Elsie sighed in defeat and went to her room. Putting on her coat and hat, she picked up her bags and made her way back out to the waiting minister. “I’m ready.”_

_“Write when you’re settled.”_

_Elsie glared at her sister. “I’ll write when hell freezes over,” she hissed, one last bit of defiance before marching out, not caring that she’d cursed in front of a man of the clothe and more than likely damned her soul to hell._

_“I’m sorry for that, Rev. Jameson. Marrying this man will be good for her. It should put the fear of God back into her.”_

_Rev. Jameson doffed his hat. “I’ll write to let you know she’s settled and respectable again.”_

_“Thank you.”_

Elsie remembered the cold long ride to the train station then the train ride to Scotland. Some nameless burgh, she’d never heard of, was where she now found herself living.

Living?

She scoffed at that.

She wasn’t living.

She was existing.

She’d tried to get away after they’d arrived, but a vice like grip on her arm had kept her from getting very far. If she’d been half the damned soul her sister had made her out to be, she would have stomped the minister’s foot and run, but she wasn’t, and didn’t.

And now here she sat, watching the door, waiting for a customer to come into the shop or her husband to return, whichever came first.

She suspected it would be her husband coming back as the shop wasn’t a busy place lately. If only it were. Maybe it would keep her husband from being so, she shook her head before she completed the thought.

It wouldn’t.

Her husband would be the way he was no matter.

She knew what he was doing now.

Out drinking at a pub out of the way where he knew, or thought he knew, no one from this burgh would see him.

He always forgot that they would see him when he came back, smelling of smoke and drink, and staggering about.

And they would hear his shouts.

Hear him yelling and cursing at her.

Calling her names she never dreamed she’d be called.

_“Connell, this is Elsie Hughes. I’ve brought her to you for you to take as your wife. She’ll solve all of your problems and keep you from being banished.”_

_Elsie’s eyes grew wide at that. “What?” she asked._

_“Were you being spoken to?” Connell glared at her then looked at the minister. “What sort of woman have you brought me? I won’t have a woman who doesn’t know her place.”_

_“She is a disgraced housekeeper. You’ll make her respectable again when you marry her. She’ll do as she’s told.”_

_“I most certainly will not!” Elsie hissed as she grabbed her things and began to walk away, only to be stopped by the yanking of her hair._

_“I think I’m going to like this one after all.” Connell sneered. “Well, when do you want to see us?” he asked the minister._

_“Give me half an hour and then we’ll get the marriage over with.”_

_“We’ll be there.”_

_Elsie squirmed against the death like grip on her arm. “You’re hurting me.”_

_Connell leaned close, his hot breath against her ear. “I’ll do more than that if you don’t settle down.”_

_“Let me go.” Elsie fought back, finally jerking her arm free._

_“It seems I have some business to attend to. My promised wife needs to learn a few things. We’ll see you in half an hour.”_

_Rev. Jameson nodded and scurried off to the church, knowing what was going to happen, and not really caring. The woman was a sinner, and sinners must be punished. Who was he to judge?_

_Elsie saw the minister rushing off out of the corner of her eye just before she rounded a corner. Feeling her hair being grabbed at again, she tried to run faster, but stumbled._

_Connell grabbed Elsie’s arm and yanked, keeping her from falling and effectively pinning her to his side. “Now, come with me. If you try to run again, you won’t have legs to run with. Is that understood?”_

_Elsie swallowed and nodded. The look in the man’s eyes was more terrifying than anything she’d ever seen in a human being before. Even more terrifying than what she’d seen in that dreadful Mr. Green’s eyes._

Elsie sat up straighter as the door opened then slid to the floor to wait for her husband’s commands. She could smell the smoke and drink just as she knew she would.

“Anyone come in?”

“No, Sir.” Elsie answered.

“Fine then. You go and prepare yourself for your punishment while I close up.”

“Yes, Sir.” Lowering her gaze to the floor, Elsie made her way out of the shop, through the storage area, down a long hall to where the bedroom was. Carefully taking off her dress so as not to muss it, she hung it back in the wardrobe then set about taking off the rest of her things, putting them back in their proper places. Going to her corner of the room, she lowered herself onto the pallet that was her bed and waited.

Connell would pick out what she was to wear for her punishment.

The dirty, perverted bastard.


	4. Chapter 4

Charles knocked on the door of the farm house he’d been told belonged to Sean and Alba McLean, Elsie’s brother-in-law and sister. He hadn’t intended to just show up on their farm, but at the urging of the Dowager Countess and Beryl, he’d packed a few things and left on the next train out of Downton that would take him to Lytham St. Anne’s.

He’d spent the night at a small pub that had rooms to rent and risen before the sun to make the trip to the farm, hoping to catch the mister of the house. He still hadn’t quite figured out why it had been Elsie’s brother-in-law that had sent the letter to Beryl, but it gave him an odd feeling.

Alba opened the door with a frown. “Yes? What is it? Do you know that you’re disturbing breakfast?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. McLean. I realize I’ve come at a bad time, but might I speak with Mr. McLean?”

“Whatever in the world would a man like you want with my mister?”

“Alba! For goodness sake!” Sean growled then looked up at Charles. “I’m Sean McLean, Mister,” he paused and held out his hand.

Charles took the offered hand and shook it. “Charles Carson.”

“You! How dare you show your face here!” Alba shouted causing Charles to take a step back. He’d been shouted at by Elsie often enough, but never at any time had he feared being attacked. Evidently Elsie had been mislabeled as the dragon. This sister was clearly the dragon of the two.

“Stop hissing at the man, Dragon, and go back to your cave.” Sean frowned at his wife.

“Don’t call me Dragon!” Alba growled as she stalked off back to the kitchen.

Sean sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry for that, Mr. Carson. Why don’t we take a bit of a walk.”

Charles nodded and waited for Sean to get his coat and hat. “I’m sorry to disturb your morning meal. It’s just that I,”

Sean held up his hand as he led them out toward the barn. “No need to apologize. I’ve read Elsie’s letter and I’ve long suspected that she wasn’t the only one in love.” Pausing at the fence, he looked up at Charles. “You do love her, don’t you?”

“I have for longer than I care to admit. If I admit that, I admit that I was a fool.”

“I don’t care about any of that, Mr. Carson. I only care about Elsie. I’m going to tell you what happened and you’re not going to like it. Before I start, let me just say, my wife did all of it without my knowledge. She made sure I wouldn’t be home because she knew that if I were to be here, I would put a stop to it.”

“Why? She’s Elsie’s sister. I don’t understand.”

“There’s bad blood between them, Mr. Carson. It’s part of why Alba did what she did.”

“Which was?”

“Come on into the barn. There’s a bench you can sit on while I tell you the whole sorry mess.”

 

~*~

 

Charles had never wanted to slap a woman so much as he did Elsie’s sister after hearing the story Sean had to tell.

He’d met his share of pious people. Most of whom wore it as a mask, as nothing more than façades, shedding them the minute they were behind the closed and locked doors of their homes. He could only recall having met a handful of people whose piety extended beyond that façade.

Alba McLean, it would seem, fell into both categories – a conundrum that Charles didn’t want to try and sort out.

All he wanted was to get to Argyll, to find Rev. Jameson, to learn what he’d done with Elsie. Sean had told him that he’d tried to find her the best he could, but all he could ever learn due to not having the money or the time, was that she’d been taken back to Scotland by the minister from the church the Hughes sisters had attended as children.

No wonder Elsie had escaped to England, leaving her family behind.

He couldn’t imagine Elsie living in that kind of environment. She was far too independent, to _alive_ to live like that.

But now she’d been living like that, or worse, for three years.

Would he find his Elsie?

Or would she be a broken, empty shell, no remnants of the woman he had known, and loved, left?

Staring out the train window, he felt fear begin to creep over him. Sean had told him that Alba knew where her sister had been taken. He’d said that he knew that she was aware of the man that her sister had been married off to. And he’d admitted that, though she wouldn’t tell him anything, the man was one that no woman should be married to.

Charles shook his head.

Elsie wouldn’t let that happen.

She was too strong.

Too stubborn.

Too independent.

His Elsie was a fire breathing dragon when the need arose.

He’d seen her stare down men twice her size and have them cowering.

He, himself, had been on the receiving end of the death stare and had cowered away from it – doing his damnedest to make it go away.

If she could make mighty men cower, surely this would be no different.

Sighing, he let his head fall back against the seat, tilting his hat down over his eyes. He had to rest, or at least try. His day had started early and the things he’d learned had mentally exhausted him.

Closing his eyes, he slowly dropped off, dreams of the life he should have lived with Elsie mingling with images of what she might have gone through as a child, what she could be going through now. It was too much and he started awake, his hat falling into his lap and starting to slide to the floor with only his years of having to be quick with his reactions saving it from falling.

Staring down at the hat in his fidgeting fingers, he did what he’d done to clear his mind since he was a young boy. Picking the most inane facts he knew, he began to recite them in his mind, knowing that he would slowly relax and fall asleep from the sheer boredom of the knowledge.

Elsie would laugh at him if she knew.

He shook his head.

No thinking of Elsie.

Back to naming the many patterns of china. That would keep his mind clear enough to fall asleep and rest.


	5. Chapter 5

Elsie bent over the bed, her hands gripping the sheets as she waited for her husband to finish preparing. Hearing him come up behind her, she let her head fall to the bed.

“You know what you’ve done wrong.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You know what the good book says about a woman submitting to her husband.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Connell sighed, “I thought I had broke your strong will to disobey me, but I suppose I was wrong. Do you enjoy this?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then why do you still do the things that you know displease me?”

“I,”

“No excuses.”

“No, Sir. Yes, Sir.” Elsie whispered, then cried out when the leather strap stung across the soft flesh of her buttocks. She knew that when he was through, she wouldn’t be able to sit properly for days, but that she would have to or face being punished again. Tears stung her eyes as they pooled then ran down her cheeks.

With each slap of the leather against her skin, she could feel welts rising, each stinging blow harder than the last. She knew that when Connell was through with the strap he would pick up the paddle and beginning again. She would be bruised by the time he felt her punishment had been meted out. Then she would be expected to perform whatever wifely duty he desired tonight, having worked himself up into an aroused frenzy by the punishment.

Feeling his hand grip her braid, Elsie started and cried out when he yanked her up by her hair. This was not how things usually went. Staring at the manic look in her husband’s eyes, she realized tonight he would his best to break her completely. She hadn’t thought his words earlier had meant anything.

As a bloodying blow landed on her cheek, she realized how wrong she’d been.

 

~*~

 

“Get to your bed, whore.”

Elsie nodded as she moved, her mouth opening to cry out from the pain but no sound coming out, her voice gone from the screaming she’d done as her husband beat her then demanded she let him take his pleasure from her body. Barely able to walk, she slowly made her way to her corner, wincing as she lowered herself onto the blankets and quilts that made up her bed.

What little clothes she’d had on were torn beyond repair or use, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

Sleep and forget everything she’d just been through.

Curling into a ball hurt, but she did it anyway. The ragged blankets she had to cover herself with weren’t much for warmth, but they were better than lying there exposed.

“For goodness sake, you stupid cow, clean yourself up. And then come and change the bed. You’ve soiled my good linens.”

Elsie swallowed as she pushed herself up, trying to hurry as best she could to do as she was told. The last thing she wanted was to have this start all over again.

Finally on her feet, she looked at Connell and nodded then made her way to the bathroom, her threadbare cotton nightdress in hand, head hung, eyes to the floor. Hurriedly washing herself, biting her lip through the stinging pain, she avoided looking in the mirror not wanting to see the damage that had been done. She already knew that her face was swelled and bloody, no need to confirm it. Gritting her teeth as she pulled her nightdress on over her head, she wadded up her torn and messy clothes and the rags she’d just used to clean herself, and threw them in the waste basket to dispose of in the morning.

“Hurry up, woman!”

Elsie jumped then bit the inside of her cheek as she forced herself to move through the pain, going to the shelves where she kept the linens for her husband’s bed. Moving to where he waited, she stumbled back when he slapped her across the face.

“I thought this would have taught you, but you just don’t seem to learn. Well, I’m tired, but rest assured, you will receive your punishment for this.”

Elsie nodded then turned to the bed and stripped it, her teeth biting into her lip so hard she drew blood. She hurt so badly that she was trembling which was slowing her down and in turn was only angering her husband more, but there was nothing she could do. Every ounce of strength and willpower she had was being used just to remain upright, there was nothing left to make herself move faster, even fear of what was to come couldn’t motivate her body into co-operation.

Stepping back from the bed, she waited with her hands clasped in front of her, her head down, eyes focused on her bare feet.

“Well, at least you’re good for something. Now get into bed. Remember to be up before I am and have my breakfast ready. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir,” she managed to whisper, nodding her head just in case he didn’t hear her, and praising what ever deity was looking out for her that this mad man hadn’t decided to beat her once again.

“Go on.”

Elsie nodded then turned and walked to her bed, slowly lowering herself down and curling back up into a ball under her thin blankets. As she slid into sleep, the face of Charles Carson floated into view. She hadn’t thought of him in two years, why was she thinking of him now?

He was her past.

This was her now and future.

What good would thinking of him do her?

Even after all of the questions, he was still there, her mind refusing to let him go.

She sighed in her sleep, a smile on her split lips as she heard his voice, low and rumbling, calling her name. A half full decanter of wine, two glasses, a nice cozy fire, all waiting for her in her sitting room.

_“Mr. Carson?”_

_“Sit here,” he patted his lap. “Don’t you think it’s time we admitted what’s between us?”_

_Elsie stood in front of him, trying to get up the courage to sit in his lap. “Are you sure?”_

_Gently tugging her hand, Charles smiled when she settled across his thighs. “I rather like this.”_

_Elsie sighed as she snuggled close, her nose against his neck. “I like it myself,” she breathed, her warm breath whispering across his skin._

_Charles shivered and bit back a moan. “That could get us into trouble,” he murmured causing her to chuckle. “I never knew you were a minx, Mrs. Hughes.”_

_“Me? A minx?” she asked as she sat up and looked down into his dark eyes._

_“Elsie,” he breathed as he reached up to cup her jaw and draw her face down closer._

_“Shh,” she whispered. “Just kiss me.”_

Elsie jerked awake. Dear god, where had that come from? Dreams like that could only bring her trouble. She needed to stop and just sleep. Because tomorrow…

Tomorrow her hell would start all over again.


	6. Chapter 6

“Rev. Jameson?” Charles asked the man standing at the front of the church.

“Yes?”

“I’m Charles Carson and I’ve been told that you know where Elsie Hughes is.”

“Who sent you?”

“No one sent me. I came on my own. I’m her friend. We worked together.”

Rev. Jameson narrowed his eyes. “It was you. You’re the reason for her fall.”

Charles frowned. “What are you talking about? She didn’t fall. Elsie Hughes is the most upstanding, moral, woman I have ever known. She took the blame for something that never happened to save me from losing the respect of the family we served and the staff I commanded.”

“If you are her friend as you say, you would say anything to protect her. She was a fallen woman, but we’ve made her respectable. If you’ve come thinking you’ll take her back to England, you’re mistaken. She’s Scottish, and she’s where she belongs.”

“Where is she?” Charles demanded.

“I’ll not be telling you anything other than she’s married to an upstanding pillar of the community in which she now lives.”

Charles felt his heart stop beating in his chest as the words, _she’s married_ , swirled around his head, banging into his brain with brut force. He’d been so sure she would have escaped, would have fought tooth and nail and gotten out of marrying. But she hadn’t. Why?

Why had she let this happen to her?

He knew Elsie.

He knew how stubborn she was.

And he knew that she would not let herself be forced to marry a man she didn’t know.

What had gone wrong?

Shaking his head, he glared at the minister. “I don’t care that she’s Scottish, and I don’t care that she’s married. I demand to know where she is. If you do not tell me, I’ll just make a few phone calls. I’m sure the Dowager Countess of Grantham can contact the Marquess of Flintshire, Laird of Duneagle, and have him learn who your superior is and I’m sure she will be happy to report to him how wonderfully helpful you’ve been.” Charles looked down on the man, using every inch of his height to his advantage, his face showing his satisfaction at the look of worry on the man’s face. He knew enough to know that the Marquess of Flintshire probably couldn’t do anything, but he also knew enough to know that throwing around the name of one of the peerage would get him what he wanted.

“Fine then, I’ll tell what you ask, but her husband won’t just let you take her away. She is his wife.”

“The information, Rev. Jameson.”

 

~*~

 

Charles found himself staring out the window of a moving train once again. He had a sick feeling in his gut that something was wrong with Elsie and the situation she was in. Rev. Jameson had been just a bit too, _something_ , for Charles’ taste. There was a coldness about the man that Charles felt shouldn’t be present in a minister. Even Rev. Travis, with his cool dislike of Catholics, wasn’t a cold man.

Eyelids slowly lowering, he gave into the fatigue of the day, knowing that he would wake the moment the train stopped. A smile flitted across his lips as he saw the blue eyes he’d missed staring up at him, a smirk on rosy lips a welcome sight.

_“Elsie Hughes, what are you up to?”_

_Elsie’s smirk spread to her eyes, causing their blue to sparkle. “Me? Up to something?” she asked as innocently as she could._

_Charles scowled down at her. “Don’t play innocent with me. What have you done?”_

_“I’ve done nothing. It’s your blessed Lady Mary that’s done something.”_

_Charles rolled his eyes. “She isn’t my blessed Lady Mary.”_

_Elsie rolled her eyes. “She’s more yours than her father’s some days.”_

_“Now, Mrs. Hughes.” Charles frowned._

_Elsie shook her head. “Enough of that. Do you want to know what I’ve heard, or not?”_

_“Not especially.”_

_Elsie sighed, “Spoil sport.”_

_Charles laughed and pulled her to him. “Never change, Elsie. Never change.”_

_Resting her hands on his chest, Elsie looked up at him with a smile. “Change is good for you, my man.”_

_“Your man?”_

_“Aren’t you?”_

_Charles nodded. “I suppose I am,” he answered as he nuzzled her neck. “That means you’re my woman.”_

_“Mmm,” she murmured. “I suppose I am.”_

_Charles chuckled against her ear before nibbling at the lobe. “Sassy.”_

_Elsie pulled back, cupping his face as she grinned. “I thought you liked my sass?”_

_“I love your sass, very much.”_

_Eyes sparkling with love, Elsie caressed his cheek with her thumb. “Will we always be this happy together, Charlie?” she whispered._

_Charles sighed at the use of the nickname. Any other human being calling him that would have received a growl and a curt, “Don’t call me that,” but when his beloved whispered the name, it gave him a thrill and made him warm all over. “I’ll do my best, Love, to make every day the best that it can be, but I can’t promise we’ll always be happy all of the time.”_

_Sighing as she snuggled her face against his neck, Elsie closed her eyes against the tears that flooded her eyes at the love she felt for the dear, sweet man whose arms held her close._

_Charles felt her tears soaking his shirt. “Why the tears, Lass?”_

_“Love, Mr. Carson, love.”_

Charles blinked as he woke up. Looking about him, he nodded his head to greet the man that had joined him in the carriage.

“Sorry to disturb you.” The man smiled and held out his hand. “The name’s Smythe.

“Mr. Carson.”

Settling down on his side of the carriage, Mr. Smythe smiled at Charles as the train started to move again. “I believe I’ll join you in your nap,” he mumbled then titled his hat down over his face.

Charles chuckled slightly then stared out the window. Sleeping seemed far away after the dream he’d been having.

 

~*~

 

“Mr. Carson.”

Charles jerked awake and blinked up at the man sitting with him. “Yes, Mr. Smythe?”

“It’s nearly time for the stop. I thought I would wake you so that you didn’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” Charles gave the man a weary smile.

“Long journey?”

“Yes.” Charles answered quietly, his mind still muddled from the dreams he’d been having. He was so tired, he’d actually forgotten he wasn’t alone. “I’m afraid I’d forgotten you were here.”

Mr. Smythe smiled. “You look like you’ve been traveling for several days.”

“Not all in one trip, but yes, I have been. I started from Yorkshire four days ago.”

“What brings you into Scotland?”

“I’m looking for a friend.” Charles answered just as the train came to a stop. Standing, he stretched a bit, scowling when his knees cracked. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Smythe. Enjoy the rest of your journey.”

“Good luck finding your friend.”


	7. Chapter 7

The words of Mr. Smythe echoed in Charles’ ears as he struggled to find someone that would tell him where he could find Connell McNeil, something he’d been doing for the last day and a half. What was it about this man that kept everyone from even speaking to him? Charles would say the name, and people would clam up.

“That isn’t a good sign, old man,” he muttered to himself as he came to a stop outside a small building. The shingle beside the door declared this as the doctor’s office. He growled, wondering to himself why he hadn’t thought to find the doctor when he’d first arrived. Shaking it off, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, now that he’d found the doctor, he could get the man to answer his questions.

“Hello,” he called as he entered and found an empty office. “Anyone here?”

“Aye! Just a moment!”

Charles waited with his hat in his hand and was surprised to see a man come shuffling into the room with snow white hair and a slightly hunched back.

“Ye be new here, Son. What can I do for ye?”

It had been a number of years since Charles had heard someone call him son, but he instantly felt at ease with this man, and felt hope rise within him again. “I’m only visiting. I’m actually looking for a friend.”

“Aye. And what be the name of the friend?”

“She was Elsie Hughes. I’m told she’s now Elsie McNeil.” Charles watched the old man’s face drain of color.

“Ye don’t know what kind of man he is.”

“No, I don’t. I need to. I need to know if she’s okay. It’s my fault she’s in this mess, fool that I am.”

“He’s a mean one. No good. He owns the shop just down the way from here. The Lass,” the old man shook his head. “She’s a wee thing and no match for him. Ye be a good sturdy man. Ye’ll need to be if ye’ve come to take her away. It will’na be easy as the law be on his side.”

Charles was desperately trying to control his anger and the urge to rush out the door and run to the shop. “How many times has she been here?” he asked, barely containing the boom of his voice.

“Too many times and not enough.”

Swallowing down his rage, Charles took a deep breath. “How much longer will you be here?”

“I live in back. I’m always here.”

Charles nodded. “Thank you, Doctor,”

“Shannon.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shannon. You’re the first person that has been kind enough to tell me the truth.”

“No, Son. Not kind enough. Brave enough. And, Son…”

“Yes?”

“Money might do ye good.”

 

~*~

 

“You whore!” Connell shouted as he backhanded Elsie sending her sprawling to the floor. “Why have you come out here? And dressed like that? Do you realize what people will think of me? I have tried to make a decent woman out of you, but you refuse!” Stalking toward her, he reached down and grabbed her hair to pull her up. “I **will** make you a submissive wife.”

Elsie, even if she’d wanted to, couldn’t have told him she’d come out to the store dressed as she was because she’d been told to. The blow to her face had broke her jaw, but, she didn’t care anymore. Maybe if he was angry enough, he would kill her and end this hell she woke up to every day. Feeling herself falling from another blow, she cried out when her head hit a shelf just before she collapsed in a heap on the floor. She heard ringing and yelling even as blackness moved in.

And just before she lost all consciousness, she heard a voice from her past.

“How dare you!” Charles roared as he rushed Connell, his large hand wrapping around the other man’s neck as he shoved him against the wall, Connell’s feet lifting off the floor.

Connell struggled against the giant of a man, his own hands tugging at the hand around his neck making it difficult for him to breathe. “Unhand me,” he finally managed to grunt out as he tried to swing his leg to kick his attacker.

Charles had anticipated the defensive action and pressed his own legs against Connell’s, pinning him so he couldn’t move. “Don’t think of grabbing me with your hands,” his voice lowered an octave making it sound as though he were growling. “You won’t like the consequences.” Staring up at the man, Charles relished in his pale face, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets, and his gasping for air.

Then he realized what he was doing and let go.

Connell tried to take a swing at Charles even as he gasped for air. “Who are you? I’ll have you arrested. Coming into my shop and attacking me for no reason!”

“No reason?” Charles roared, having to practically stand on his own foot to keep himself from lunging at the man again. As it was, he was sure his eyes were black with the rage surging through him which would account for the other man’s quickly inching his way away from Charles. “You hit her, that’s reason enough,” he hissed as he turned and made his way over to Elsie.

Kneeling down next to the prone figure on the floor, Charles felt bile rise in his throat. The way she was dressed, the cuts and bruises, her split lip and swelling face, the pool of blood under her head, were all enough to make Charles want to rise and pummel Elsie’s so called husband into nothing but a pile of dust.

“Dear god, Elsie,” he breathed as he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the blood on her face. Realizing he had to get her out of here and to the doctor, he stood and turned to face Connell who still stood behind the shop’s counter, his eyes plastered to Charles and following his every movement. “I’m taking her with me. Where are her things?”

“You can’t take her! She’s mine.”

“She is no man’s property!”

“That ring on her finger says otherwise. The law is on my side. If you take her, it will be kidnapping and you’ll be charged.” Connell responded with a smirk, some of his _bravery_ coming back.

Charles scowled as he leaned down and pulled the ring from Elsie’s finger. Straightening back up, he flipped the ring across the room, hitting Connell square in the head. “No longer. Now where are her things?”

“You can’t take my wife!”

Charles took a deep breath and stalked over to Connell. Bending down, his hot breath fanned across Connell’s face as he spoke. “How much? I’ll pay you to let me take her.”

“You don’t have enough.”

“How much?” Charles asked again, the bit of patience he’d managed to regain slowly slipping away again.

Connell rattled off a number and Charles nodded. “You can’t possibly have that much money,” he blinked at Charles in surprise when there was no argument.

“You’d be surprised, Mr. McNeil.” Charles answered. “Now, where are her things?”

“Through there.” Connell pointed and watched as Charles stormed through to their private quarters. He’d never met a man like this one before. None of the men in the village were brave enough to tell him what to do or threaten him, but this one didn’t seem to be afraid of anything.

He shrugged.

Being big as an ox, and then some, played a huge part in it, Connell was sure.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles stared in horror at the pallet in the corner of the bedroom that he knew without being told was where Elsie slept. Shaking himself out of it, he went to the wardrobe and found a dress, but shook his head and turned around, leaving everything behind. He’d realized that if he took anything from this place it would only remind Elsie of the man who had abused her, and Charles didn’t want that.

Moving back out into the shop, he glared at Connell. “What kind of man are you? You’ve treated her,” he stopped and shook his head then looked around the shop for some blankets. Spotting some on a shelf, he walked to it and pulled a couple off then moved to Elsie and gently lifted her so he could wrap her up to take her out.

“You haven’t paid me yet. She stays here until I have money in hand.”

“No.” Charles snarled up at the man. “She goes with me so that she can get help and I will bring you the money when I have it. Don’t worry. I never go back on my word.” Looking back down at the woman he’d wrapped carefully in the blankets, he caressed her cheek when she moaned. “Easy, Elsie. It’s Charles and you’re safe now,” he soothed and carefully stood with her in his arms.

“I’ll know where she is. I can come and take her.”

“I wouldn’t.” Charles warned, death in his eyes as he stared across the room at the man.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t tempt me. You’re lucky you’re still alive.” Charles informed Connell before walking to the door which had stood open all of this time and a small crowd had gathered outside the shop. Carefully balancing Elsie in his arms, he pulled the blankets up to cover her head and face and glared at those watching. Scowling when the crowd didn’t move, he grunted as he pushed through and made his way back to the doctor’s office that he’d come from earlier.

Looking down at the precious burden in his arms, his heart broke when he noticed her hair. When he’d last seen her, her hair had looked as though it might feel like silk with the beautiful sheen it had when she would step out into the sun. The reddish brown tresses had been sprinkled with grey three years ago, now those tresses were nearly all white.

Dear God above, what other kind of horrors had his friend suffered?

 

~*~

 

“I’m sorry to call, My Lady, but I don’t have enough.” Charles spoke clearly into the mouth piece, making sure that the Dowager could hear him over the crackling of the line. “Thank you, My Lady,” he knew his voice cracked, and was sure the old woman had heard it, but he also knew he could trust her.

Handing the phone over to the bank manager, Charles waited patiently for the Dowager to explain to the man what she wanted done. He hated this, hated having to use his connection to the family this way, but he had no other choice. Elsie wouldn’t be safe if he just took off with her without paying the man, and he knew that if Connell McNeil found her, there would be a former butler up on murder charges.

“Well, Mr. Carson, it seems you have connections in high places.” Mr. Bodkin snarled at Charles as he hung up the phone. “After I’ve made a call to the Countess’ bank, I’m to give you any amount you ask for.”

“I will thank you not to be rude, Mr. Bodkin. I’ve done what I had to do to save the life of a friend. Now,” Charles continued with what he needed as he looked down on the short, rotund man, his disdain for the man evident in his tone and manner.

“That’s a lot of money for a servant.”

Charles growled low in his throat. “Mr. Bodkin, I am no longer a servant. I am a man who is doing what he has to do to rescue a friend from a life of abuse by a man, I’m sure, you see as an upstanding member of your community. I have no use for you or your kind, but you’re all that I have access to at the moment, so if you’re through with trying to insult me, I suggest you do as the Dowager Countess of Grantham asked.” Finished with his speech, he waited for the bank manager to scurry off and gritted his teeth while rubbing the bridge of his nose.

What sort of men were these?

The only good man he’d managed to find since he arrived in this little village had been the doctor who was currently watching over Elsie and tending to her. He’d promised to have proper clothing for her so that when Charles came back, they would be able to leave and head home.

Thoughts of home brought Charles up short.

Where would Elsie live?

She couldn’t very well live with him as they weren’t married.

He knew that Beryl intended to retire, but even though by the time he returned it would be a week gone since he’d started his journey, Beryl’s retirement wouldn’t come in time for Elsie to stay with her.

He shook his head when he heard Mr. Bodkin grumbling at him. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” Charles told the man as he took the envelope held out to him.

Mr. Bodkin shrugged. “I hope the grand lady knows what she’s doing.”

 

~*~

 

“I’ve done everything I could for the lass, Son. She’ll need a hospital.”

“Can she travel?”

“Aye. Are ye going to take her back to Yorkshire?”

“I am. Downton Village has a hospital and the doctor there is familiar with her medical history.”

“I’ve had my nurse bring clothes and dress the lass.”

Charles nodded. “Do you have any blankets to spare? I don’t want to use the ones I took from the store. The less she has to remind her of that monster, the better.”

Dr. Shannon reached out and rested his hand on Charles’ arm. “The lass is wrapped in two of my warmest blankets and ready for ye to take her.”

“God bless you, Dr. Shannon.” Charles patted the old man’s hand.

“Are ye sure he won’t come for her?”

“I paid him what he asked, and I also made it clear that coming after Elsie would lead to his death. I’ll hang before I let him near her again.”

“I heard about the confrontation with him.”

“I’m not surprised.” Charles snarled in disgust. “They just stood there. What kind of people are these?”

“People who have been terrorized by a man who just happens to be the richest man in our little burgh. He owns the shop and they need the goods he sells. Some of the men tried to go against him in the past, but that didn’t work. He just had the minister put the fear of God into them. Some of the men left rather than stay and let their wives be assaulted. Others just locked their wives in the house while they were gone during the day. Even the women at the local _house_ have been locked up away from him.”

“So Elsie was everyone’s scapegoat?”

“She was.”

Charles swallowed down his anger then bent to lift Elsie gently into his arms. “Will she wake soon?”

“I’ve given her morphine and I’ve put a small case in the blankets with her that contains more so that you can get her home.” The old doctor picked up the small vile and needle he had sitting on the table and showed Charles what to do. “Normally I’d just give you powder or pills, but with her jaw being broke, this will be easier. Just be gentle, Mr. Carson, and you’ll do fine.”

Adjusting Elsie so that she was held closely to his chest, Charles nodded then sighed, “Thank you again, Dr. Shannon.”

“Just get the lass away, Mr. Carson.”

“Will he hurt you for helping us?” Charles asked, knowing that he had to make sure the man would be safe.

“He’ll not touch me, Son. I’m the one man in town he knows won’t back down. I also hold secrets that he’d rather keep quiet. Connell McNeil knows that if something happens to me, someone in town has access to where I keep the envelope with a letter that tells all of those secrets.”

“You’re a brave and wise man.”

“I’m an old man, Mr. Carson, who sadly had a father of the same ilk. After he beat me mother to death, I made up my mind to do whatever I could to take care of people who have been abused.”

“Which is why you’ve stayed.”

“Aye. Now go, Son, and God speed.”

Charles nodded and walked to the door, turning so that he could go out without hurting Elsie. He was met with a crowd staring at him and he shook his head as he walked steadily toward the train station. He heard the murmurs as he passed some of the people, but he didn’t care. Elsie wasn’t going to be their scapegoat any longer.

They’d have to figure something else out.


	9. Chapter 9

It was night when Charles carried Elsie into the Downton Village Hospital. Met by a nurse, he shook his head when she tried to get him to lay his burden down on a nearby cot. “I want to see Dr. Clarkson. I’ll wait here.”

“But won’t you lay them down?” the nurse said as she pointed to the bundle in Charles’ arms.

Charles shook his head again. “No.”

“Alright then.” The nurse sighed and turned to go fetch the doctor.

Charles listened to the sounds around him then looked down when Elsie stirred and whimpered. “Easy, Elsie. It’s Charles, you’re safe now,” he repeated the same thing he’d told her when he’d first found her and every other time since when she’d started to whimper. He felt her calm just as Dr. Clarkson came rushing towards him from down the hall where Charles knew the doctor’s office was located.

“Mr. Carson?” Richard asked as he stared at the blanket clad body in Charles’ arms.

“Do you have a private room to see to her?” Charles whispered, not wanting anyone to see Elsie the way she was.

Richard nodded though he was puzzled. “Right this way. Do you mind if I have one of my nurses accompany us?”

“Mrs. Crawley.” Charles said the name quietly. He’d thought about who he wanted to take care of Elsie and Mrs. Crawley was the name that kept coming to him. He knew she would be careful to keep the details of this to herself.

“Mrs. Crawley? She’s at home asleep, I’m sure.”

“Please, Dr. Clarkson. You’ll understand when you see.”

Those last words told Richard all he needed to know about who was wrapped so protectively in the blankets. Opening a door, he pointed to a cot. “Lay her down there, Mr. Carson, and I’ll go and phone Mrs. Crawley. You won’t be disturbed in here.”

Charles nodded, but instead of laying Elsie down, he simply sat down on the bed with her in his lap. He watched the doctor leave then moved the blankets away from Elsie’s face. “They’ll take care of you now, Elsie. You’re home where people love you. I’m so sorry, Elsie. So very sorry. If I’d but told you that I loved you and asked you to marry me that day,” he stopped to swallow back the emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “Did you know that I’ve loved you all these years even though I never said? Did you know that was why I always pushed you away?” A tear rolled down his cheek and landed on Elsie’s face. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered again.

Sitting and holding her, Charles lost track of time and was startled when a hand gently squeezed his shoulder. Looking up, he found himself staring into the warm and caring eyes of Mrs. Crawley. “Help her,” he whispered.

“We’ll do our best. You’ll have to lay her down for us to do our job. I promise I won’t leave her, and you know that Dr. Clarkson will take care of her. She’s a kindred Scot.” Isobel winked at Charles

Charles, for the first time in what seemed forever, smiled. Standing he gently laid Elsie down on the bed then straightened and looked back at Dr. Clarkson and Mrs. Crawley. “She’s been married to a monster the last three years. When I found her, he’d just hit her and she fell into a shelf. I,” he swallowed to continue. “The doctor there cleaned her up and did what he could to make her comfortable to travel so I could bring her home to you. He explained that her jaw was broken from the blow to her face. He also gave me morphine to give to her so that she would be comfortable as she could be while we were traveling.”

“How many days?” Isobel asked.

“Too many.” Charles whispered as he looked at Elsie.

“I’ll do everything I can, Mr. Carson.” Richard assured the man. “There’s a pot of hot tea in my office if you’d like to wait in there.”

“Promise no one will be allowed to see her. I can’t bear the thoughts of this getting out. She’ll be embarrassed.”

“Once I’ve assessed her condition, we’ll make a decision on whether or not she needs to stay here.”

“And if she doesn’t, we’ll take her to Crawley House. No one is there to see her but me, and I’ll be taking care of her.”

Charles nodded. “One more thing,” he paused and looked down at Elsie. “If she wakes all the way up, she might be frightened and try to get out of the bed. She’s not been allowed to sleep anywhere but a pallet on the floor. She’ll think she’s fallen asleep in,” he shook his head unable to go on.

“It’s alright, Mr. Carson.” Isobel assured him. “I promise.”

Sighing, Charles left the room, closing the door behind him. He hated leaving Elsie alone, but deep down he was grateful that he wasn’t going to be in the room. He had guessed at what she’d been through, he didn’t think his heart could handle seeing or hearing the truth of it.

 

~*~

 

Isobel had seen many things in her years as a nurse, but what she saw as they gently looked after Elsie – “Dear god, Richard,” she breathed.

Richard looked up, his normally pale grey-blue eyes dark with anger. “I’ve seen it before. The man is a sexual pervert.”

“Do you think Mr. Carson knows about this?”

“I think he suspects it. He didn’t tell us everything, there was something he was holding back.”

“Do you think he saw something?” Isobel asked even as she gently caressed Elsie’s forehead when she moaned. “Shh, Elsie. It’s Mrs. Crawley. You’re here with me and Dr. Clarkson. We’re helping you. As soon as we’re through, Mr. Carson will be allowed to see you again.”

Richard watched as Elsie calmed. “Keep talking to her. I need to keep her still. Maybe I should give her another dose of morphine.”

Isobel bit her lip. “Maybe we should let her come around so that she knows she’s safe. Then we can give her more morphine for the pain. It looks like the doctor did a perfect job with her jaw. I hate that she isn’t going to be able to eat properly. She’s so malnourished, she needs more than a liquid diet.”

Richard nodded. “The doctor did a fine job with what he had available. I’ll check her jaw before we go out to talk to Mr. Carson, but I trust your judgment.”   Sighing, he turned his attention completely back to what he’d been doing. “I understand more now why he wanted you here and not one of the others. None of my nurses have seen anything like this.”

“ _I’ve_ not seen anything this bad. He did say she would be embarrassed with someone else. She’ll be embarrassed enough with the two of us and Mr. Carson knowing the truth.”

Finished, Richard stood and walked over to the sink and washed his hands. Turning back to Isobel, he watched as she gently tucked Elsie into bed, caressing the other woman’s hair from her face. She was a gentle woman, a woman that was often overlooked as such.

Isobel watched as Richard dried his hands then came back to the bed, gently going over the rest of Elsie’s body looking for injuries. They knew from the bindings around her middle that her ribs had been broken, something they would have to watch carefully. Watching as Richard’s hands tenderly moved over Elsie’s face and jaw, opening her mouth to see the other doctor’s work, Isobel reached out and rested her hand on Richard’s before he stood up. “Thank you.”

Richard frowned as he cocked his head to the side and studied her. “Whatever for?”

“For being the kind and gentle doctor that you are.” Isobel whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.

Richard reached out and wiped away the tear, his eyes kind and filled with the love he had for this woman, a love he was grateful she returned. “No need for thanks, Love,” he whispered then stood up and held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Mr. Carson. He’ll want to know how she is.”

“And will you tell him everything?” Isobel asked once they had stepped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

“Not unless he asks. It will be enough to tell him that the other doctor did an excellent job with the broken jaw and ribs and that I think it’s safe to let her be taken to Crawley House. Which of course is only because the best nurse I have on staff will be the caregiver.”

Isobel blushed and shook her head. “I think that Elsie being at Crawley House away from other people will ease Mr. Carson’s mind more than anything. Do you think he will tell us anymore about how he found her and what happened?”

“I don’t know, Isobel. Charles Carson has never been a man of very many words, most especially when it comes to discussing emotions.”

Isobel laid her hand on Richard’s arm as they paused outside his office. “If he gets gruff, we have to be easy. The woman he loves is lying in that room battered and bruised, and I think,” she bit her lip. “I noticed his hand. He’s hurt.”

“I’ll tend to it.” Richard patted Isobel’s hand. “We’ll both remember to be easy with him.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh Elsie.” Charles whispered as he walked into the room she’d been resting in while he talked to Dr. Clarkson and Mrs. Crawley. She must have woke while they were talking and panicked.

Isobel walked in behind him and gasped slightly. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched Charles walk to the corner of the room where Elsie lay shivering and curled into a ball. She knew that the woman had to be in pain but yet she still held her position, her fear greater than the pain.

“Elsie? It’s Charles. You’re safe now. I’m going to take you to stay at Crawley House with Mrs. Crawley. You’ll have a nice bed to sleep in. No more floor.”

Elsie shook her head and became agitated, her body trembling violently. “No,” she managed to mumble out. “Soil,” she struggled again, not completely coherent enough to understand why she couldn’t open her mouth. “Bed,” she mumbled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Charles felt himself growing sick but shook it off. Elsie was more important. Sitting down on the floor, he gently pulled her onto his lap and cuddled her close. “Fine then. I’ll sit down here so you have something more comfortable than the floor.”

Isobel pulled the blankets off the bed and bent down to place them over Elsie. “I’ll go and call for my motor.”

Charles shook his head. “I can carry her.”

“Mr. Carson, I know you want to protect her, but you can’t carry her to Crawley House. Your hand is hurt, and you’ve not slept or ate properly for days. If you don’t want to trust that my driver will keep quiet, we can wrap Elsie up the way you had her so that he can’t see her face. I can simply make up something to explain it, or not say anything at all.”

Looking down at Elsie, he gave in. “Fine.”

“Hurt’ye.” Elsie’s murmur was garbled as she tried to move away from Charles.

Charles blinked in surprise at the lapse in Elsie’s speech. She hadn’t spoken like that in years. “He’ll hurt no one, Elsie. We’ve left him back in Scotland. You’re home in Downton village. Don’t try to talk, just rest. You’re safe now.”

Isobel straightened back up and watched as Charles soothed Elsie back into sleep and shook her head. They had a long road ahead of them and she wondered if they were all going to be strong enough to endure the pain that lay in wait as Elsie struggled to find her way back.

 

~*~

 

“Do you have any spare linens I can make a pallet in the corner with?” Charles quietly asked Isobel after they’d settled Elsie in one of the guest rooms at Crawley House.

“You aren’t going to spend the night on the floor, Mr. Carson.” Isobel frowned up at the man.

“No, Mrs. Crawley. You saw where she wound up before. I’m afraid we’re not going to be very successful at keeping her in a bed for a long while. I don’t want her to be cold or any more uncomfortable than she has to be.”

Isobel nodded. “I’ll gather all of the extras I have and I’ll get the warmest duvet in the house to use as something for her to cover up with.”

“Thank you.” Charles whispered before pulling a chair close to Elsie’s bed. “I’ll sit with her for a bit.”

“You need to rest, Mr. Carson. Getting ill yourself will do nothing for Elsie.”

“I’ll sit with her until you come back.”

“Then you’ll go into one of the other guest rooms and get some rest.”

He shook his head. “Then I’ll make the pallet in the corner. I couldn’t possibly stay here. It would be improper.”

Isobel shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t. It isn’t as though it’s just you and one woman in the house. It’s late and you’re tired. You’ll stay here and no argument,” she commanded in the tone she’d used countless times with stubborn patients.

Charles sighed, too tired to argue and quite sure that even if he’d tried, he wouldn’t win. Nodding, he kept his gaze on Elsie, the click of the door only registering as a distant noise as his thoughts drifted to what the doctor and Mrs. Crawley hadn’t said when they’d talked to him. They’d told him of Elsie’s broken ribs, that she had a concussion from the fall, and that her jaw had been broken – all things he’d already known. They didn’t mention the other things he suspected. He knew they were probably trying to protect him, and he thanked them for it, but at some point he was going to have to know everything so that he didn’t do anything to scare or upset Elsie.

“Here, Mr. Carson.” Isobel whispered as she came back in to the room, her arms full of linens and a couple of duvets.

Charles stood and took the pile from Isobel. “Thank you.”

“I can do it, Mr. Carson.”

“No, I’ll do it. I think she’s finally settled for the night.”

“The morphine Dr. Clarkson gave her should keep her asleep for the next few hours. I’ll take first watch.” Isobel held up her hand to stop Charles’ protest. “No arguments. I’m the nurse.”

Charles turned back to making Elsie’s bed, nodding his head in thanks when a pillow was slipped around him. “She had no pillow,” he whispered as he finished, his hands stilling against the duvet. “The linens she had were thread bare. There were blood stains. She,” he started, his head dropping until his trembling chin rested against his chest. “She bled there after he hurt her. I know my Elsie, she would never have let stains go, but you can only get rid of stains so many times when the linens are old and thin.”

Isobel, tears staining her cheeks, squeezed Charles’ shoulder. She’d noticed how he’d called Elsie, _my Elsie_ , and the way his voice trembled as he spoke nearly broke her heart. “Our Elsie is warm, and clean, and sleeping in a comfortable bed now. She’ll never be abused again because none of us will let anyone harm her. She’s safe now, Charles.” Isobel whispered, using his first name for the first time in hopes that it would show him how sincere she was in her assurances.

“But she doesn’t know she’s safe. She still thinks she’s with him.”

“Until she hears your voice telling her she’s safe. You, your voice – that’s all that’s calmed her since we brought her here.” Isobel gave him a trembling smile when he looked up at her. “You’ve made her a nice soft and warm place to sleep if she panics, now go rest. I promise I’ll come and wake you if something happens.”

Charles stood, groaning as his knees cracked. “I’ll leave the door open. I’ll hear if you simply say my name.”

Isobel nodded. “Goodnight, Mr. Carson. Rest well.”

“I shall try. Goodnight, Mrs. Crawley.”


	11. Chapter 11

Isobel moved down the hall, her eyes filled with tears as she knocked lightly at the open door of Charles’ room. This had been the common recurrence since they’d brought Elsie to Crawley House over a week ago.

“I’m coming.” Charles murmured as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, sliding his feet into his slippers. He had taken to sleeping on top of the bedding, just the throw at the end of the bed pulled over him, and wearing his robe.

Isobel sighed, “I tried. I thought that she would understand by now.”

Charles patted Isobel’s arm as he passed by her. “She’s spent three years sleeping in a corner on the floor, one week isn’t going to be enough, Mrs. Crawley.”

“Won’t you at least call me Isobel when it’s just us? There’s no need to be so formal after all we’ve been through this last week.”

Charles sighed, “I’ll try,” just before disappearing into Elsie’s room.

Isobel watched as Charles sat down beside Elsie, his back resting against the wardrobe, his hand reaching out to caress her mussed hair. She could hear him whispering the same things he always did to reassure the frightened woman shivering under the duvets. Not able to take it any longer, she slipped quietly down the hall to her own room, her arms wrapping around the man she found waiting for her.

“Shh, Lass.” Richard whispered as he held Isobel close and rocked her gently back and forth. He’d stayed away until tonight, not wanting to cause any trouble for Isobel with Charles, although he knew they could simply tell the man the truth. “I shouldn’t have stayed away. You’ve needed me to be here to help you.”

Safe in his arms, Isobel finally let herself cry out all of the pain for her friend that she’d been holding in. “She’s lost, Richard. No matter how much we reassure her, it never changes. She wakes in the night and struggles out of the bed and into the corner.”

“Then I’ll bring a mattress from one of the unused cots at the hospital and you can put it under her pallet to make it more comfortable.”

“I want her to feel safe sleeping in a proper bed.”

“She will, Lass, but it’s going to take a while. We’ve no idea of all of the horrid things the man she’s married to has done to her.”

“He broke her.” Isobel whispered.

Gathering Isobel up into his arms, Richard carried her to the bed and sat down, cradling her in his lap. “Yes, Lass, I believe he did. I also believe Charles Carson will put her back together.”

Kissing the underside of Richard’s jaw, Isobel snuggled closer. “He calls her, _my Elsie_. I don’t think he realizes it. I think he’s broken, too. He’s talked about some of what he saw, of what he learned.”

Richard listened as Isobel told him all of the things Charles had told her and felt himself growing ill with the hell Elsie had lived the last three years. “Why did she marry the man?”

“Her sister sent her off to be married to save the family name from being disgraced again.”

“Again?” Richard questioned. “Surely you don’t mean Elsie Hughes disgraced her family name?”

“Apparently she was promised to a neighbor family’s son. She turned him down and left to go into service.”

“And that disgraced the family so much so that the sister did _this_?” Richard nearly spat the words. “What kind of woman is Elsie’s sister?”

“Not one I want to meet. I’m afraid of what I would do.” Isobel hissed.

“I agree. I’ve never wanted to hit a woman before now.”

“Richard?”

“Yes?”

“I’m tired of hiding the truth.”

Titling her face up, Richard held her gaze. “Are you sure, Lass?”

Isobel nodded. “I need you here. I need to be your wife in public not just in private. Seeing what happened to Elsie,” she shook her head. “I’ve been wrong to worry.”

“Not wrong, Lass.” Richard smiled tenderly as he caressed her face. “I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

“I want us to tell the truth,” she whispered as she pulled the chain from around her neck. “No more hiding this.”

Slipping the ring back onto her left ring finger, Richard kissed it then lifted his mouth to hers. “I love you, Isobel Clarkson. No matter what lies ahead for our friends, we’ll be there for them together.”

 

~*~

 

Charles spoke as softly as he could while telling Elsie stories of his youth, his hand gently covering the small hand fisted in the hem of his robe. “Old John let me ride the pony he had for his girls from time to time when he would ask me to do an errand for him in the village. Ma wasn’t keen on it, but Pa told her it was good for me to be able to ride and learn about horses. And I loved them. Still do, though I didn’t have much chance of riding or being near the horses when I was butler.” He smiled when he thought of the one of the few times he’d had anything to do with the horses after assuming his role as butler.

“I remember how very frightened Lady Sybil was her first time riding. Diamond was a very gentle pony, very calm and easy with children, but she was still bigger than the young lady and she was frightened. Everyone was scolding her, hissing at her that she had to learn to ride as it was expected of her. She looked up at me with those big eyes, large tears rolling down her cheeks, and when she came and clung to my pant legs – I was lost.” He chuckled in sad memory. “I know, you would smirk at me being sentimental, but she was so little, and what was I supposed to do? The tiny bit of stuff was clinging to my legs, begging me to help. I bent down and wiped her eyes with my handkerchief then lifted her up and told her I would help her. Lady Mary was cross, Lady Edith simply rolled her eyes, and Lord Grantham scowled. He wasn’t happy that his child had run to me instead of him. I could have told him that she wanted nothing to do with anyone that had been scolding her and that’s why it was I that she ran to, but I merely kept my promise and took her over to the horse and held her hand and helped her gently pet Diamond to show her she had nothing to fear.”

Elsie turned her hand under Charles’ and gave it a light squeeze. She’d heard that story from Lady Sybil, but had promised never to tell Charles that she knew what a softie he was.

Charles smiled as he gently caressed Elsie’s fingers. “You’re safe, Elsie. It’s just you and your grumpy butler. Well, not butler anymore, just friend. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise.” Seeing her eyes flutter and look at him, he clasped her hand a bit tighter. “I promise, Elsie. _No one_.” He watched her eyes close again, felt her hand go limp in his and sighed hoping that she would soon be coherent enough to remember his reassurances that she was safe.


	12. Chapter 12

Beryl stared at Charles, a scowl on her face. “How could you?” she asked, her voice cracking though she tried to scowl.

“I had to.” Charles whispered. “The only reason you know now is because Mrs. Clarkson thought it would be good for Elsie to see you. I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why? I just don’t understand. I thought,”

“Just go and see her, Beryl. You’ll understand then.”

Beryl studied her friend and felt her heart lurch in her chest. “Charles, what’s happened?”

Charles shook his head. “Just go and see her, Beryl,” he whispered and moved to stare out the window of his cottage that overlooked the back yard and garden he’d worked so hard to make something of the last three years. He’d unknowingly, or rather, subconsciously, planted all of Elsie’s favorite flowers in the boxes beneath his windows and in the beds he’d dug and created along the fence line. He’d also realized after his vegetables started growing, that he’d planted much of Elsie’s favorites there as well.

He heard Beryl leave and heaved a sigh. He had kept Elsie hidden away at Crawley House since the night he’d brought her back, had stayed there himself to keep people from learning he had returned so that he wouldn’t have to answer any questions.

Now that he had ventured out, it would spread through the village that he had returned and those questions would be hurled at him with lightning speed. Rubbing a hand over his face, he made the decision to go and see the Dowager. He owed her for everything she had done for him, and she would also be a great help in figuring out what to do to stem the flow of gossip about Mrs. Hughes.

He shook his head.

Not Mrs. Hughes.

Just Elsie.

That brought him back to another topic he needed to discuss with the Dowager.

He somehow had to secure a divorce for Elsie.

If he could do that, he would marry her. If they were married, he could bring her to his home, take care of her, protect her.

Love her.

He would show her that a husband can be a good man. That a husband can take care of his wife, cherish her, protect her, and love her above all else.

And never, ever, harm her.

 

~*~

 

“Elsie.” Isobel called as she entered the room, careful not to frighten the woman should she be sleeping. Finding her in the corner, she felt her heart constrict as it always did. Backing out of the room, she turned to Beryl. “Did Mr. Carson explain anything about our Elsie?”

Beryl blinked at that. _Our Elsie?_ “He told me to come and see her, that I would learn for myself why he hadn’t told me before now that he’d found her.”

Isobel bit her lip. “He’s been very protective of her, Mrs. Patmore. She’s spent the last three years,” she shook her head, her voice cracking. “When you go in, you’ll find her in the corner.”

“In the corner?” Beryl’s voice rose then fell quickly. “What the bloody heck is she doing in the corner?”

“That’s where she sleeps. We’ve tried to get her to sleep in the bed, but,” Isobel looked down at her hands. “The man she’s been married to for the last three years didn’t allow her to sleep in a bed. She had to sleep on a pallet in the corner of the room. Mr. Carson and I have made this one as comfortable as we can. Dr. Clarkson even brought a mattress from one of the unused cots at the hospital over to put under all of the blankets and duvets we had piled up.” Reaching out, Isobel rested a hand on Beryl’s arm. “Her jaw was broken, so everything was wired shut to let it heal. She’s lost weight and doesn’t talk much, but maybe she will when she sees you. Just be easy with her.”

Beryl, tears rolling down her cheeks, nodded then turned her attention to fishing her handkerchief out of her handbag. Wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, she took a deep breath then moved around Isobel and went into the bedroom. Swallowing back her gasp, she took a deep breath then laid her handbag down so she could take off her coat and hat, the actions giving her time to get her emotions under control.

“Elsie, lass. It’s Mrs. Patmore.” She huffed. “Beryl. I’ll be Beryl. No need for titles here.” Groaning as she settled herself on the floor, her back against the wardrobe, she reached out and gently rested her hand on Elsie’s. “I’ve missed you. If I’d known I’d be seeing you today, I’d have brought you some shortbread biscuits. Or maybe some chocolate ones. Would you like that?”

Elsie blinked as she turned her hand to clasp Beryl’s. She was safe, she knew this voice, this kind face. Knew that Beryl Patmore would protect her just as Charles Carson had done. “Chocolate,” she whispered.

Beryl grinned and nodded. “I’ll be sure and bring them tomorrow when I come to visit. For now, will you join me on the bed over there,” she hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m too old to be sitting on the floor. If I stay here, I may never get up.”

Elsie shook her head. “Can’t. Mustn’t. Where I belong.”

Reaching out with her free hand, Beryl caressed a strand of hair away from Elsie’s cheek. “No, lass. You belong on the bed. Mrs. Crawley has made it up nice and clean just for you. Only for you. No one else needs it. Mrs. Crawley has her bed, and Mr. Carson has a bed here too. I’ll sit right beside you, I promise.”

Elsie bit her bottom lip and stared at the bed. She’d laid in it, that’s where she always started out, but eventually, she would wind up here in the corner where she belonged. He said so. And she had to do what he told her or she’d be punished.

Beryl watched the fear fill her friend’s eyes. “He can’t hurt you anymore, Lass. I won’t let him. Mrs. Crawley won’t let him. And I know a big, bellowing man that would soon as knock him sprawling as look at him. Charles Carson won’t be letting anyone hurt you. I dare say, Dr. Clarkson won’t be letting anyone hurt you, either. We all love you, Elsie, and we’re going to make sure that we protect you from anything or anyone that can harm you.” Beryl squeezed Elsie’s hand before letting go to push herself up off the floor. “Ooph,” she grunted then smiled down at Elsie as she held out her hand. “Come on then. I’ve a story to tell you.”

Elsie sat up carefully and took Beryl’s hand. Wrapping her free arm around her middle, she stood up and leaned against her friend as they walked the short distance to the bed. Biting her lip, she sat on the edge and scooted back, settling against the pillows.

Beryl toed off her shoes then settled on the bed next to Elsie, her hand reaching out to hold the cold and trembling one of her friend. “There now, this is much better. And look,” she pointed at the window. “You can see outside. See the bird on that tree branch? I’m not sure how the tiny thing is still sitting there with the wind blowing like it is.”

Elsie watched the bird, her eyes transfixed on the way its head dipped against the wind, its feathers ruffling with each gust. “Should be in its nest,” she spoke quietly.

Beryl nodded. “Would be the warmer place.”

“Story.” Elsie reminded Beryl.

“Ah yes. I did say I had a story to tell you, didn’t I?”

Elsie nodded and settled further down onto the pillows. “You did.”

“Well, years ago, when I was no more than eleven, my aunt came to live with us. I was confused at first because she had a husband and a house of her own. Then I heard her crying out one night in her sleep and Ma rushing to her. I learned after that night, that her husband had abused her. Ma didn’t tell me more than that he’d beat her, but when I got older, old enough to fully understand, Auntie told me all of the truth so that I would know to be wary and careful. I was in service by then, and too concerned with proving that I was a good cook, that I could one day be the one bossing people about my own kitchen, to be overly concerned with marriage. I promised her that I would be careful though because I’d seen and heard the hell she went through trying to get her life back.” Beryl looked down at Elsie and reached out to wipe away a tear.

Elsie stared up at her friend, tears blurring her vision. She knew what Beryl was doing, and was grateful for her understanding. Through Beryl’s story, she found the one person she could talk to when she was ready.

“I won’t push you to tell me anything, Lass. I just wanted you to know that I can guess at what you went through, and that I’m sorry. If you want to talk to someone, you know I’m a good listener.”

Elsie nodded and squeezed Beryl’s hand. She and Beryl had fought like cats and dogs over the store cupboard key, but they’d also been allies in other things. Beryl was a friend, more of a sister to Elsie than her own had ever been. Feeling tired, she let her eyes close, her hand holding tightly to Beryl’s.

“Rest. I’ll be right here.” Beryl whispered as she watched Elsie fall asleep. Tears rolled down her cheeks, the emotions she’d been keeping in check finally being released. Her friend had been through hell, a hell that she’d prayed never to see another woman go through again after her aunt. Scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks, she thought about what she’d said to Elsie.

She’d meant it.

Every word.

If the man that did this so much as blinked in Elsie’s direction, she, Beryl Patmore, would make him regret it.

She hadn’t been wielding pots and pans most of her life for nothing.

She knew just the pan to use to get the message across.

No one was going to hurt Elsie Hughes ever again.


	13. Chapter 13

“Carson.” Robert said the name, startled to have run into the man in the village.

“My Lord.” Charles acknowledged, wishing he were anywhere but here at this moment. The last person he wanted to see was the man who had trusted the word of Thomas Barrow.

Robert was taken aback by the tone of his former butler’s voice. It had been three years, surely the man had gotten over the little matter of the housekeeper’s dismissal. “I hear you’ve been out of town and have only just returned.”

Charles felt his jaw twitch as he gritted his teeth. “I was, My Lord.”

“Visiting a friend?” Robert asked, thinking that the man had probably been off visiting Elsie Hughes.

“No.” Charles snapped then cleared his throat. “I wasn’t visiting, My Lord. Excuse me. I need to be going. I have a meeting I’m going to be late for.”

Robert blinked in surprise as he watched the man turn and leave without so much as a goodbye. He’d never known Charles Carson to be so rude or to hold a grudge. After all, he was merely making pleasant conversation.

Charles could feel his former employer’s eyes on him as he stormed away. He could well imagine that the man was standing there trying to reason out why his former butler had been so abrupt. He knew that the Earl was probably thinking that as a good Englishman, Charles should have been polite and that he should have given up his grudge.

What the Earl didn’t know, was that Charles _had_ given up his grudge until he’d found Elsie, and then it had returned ten fold. Besides, Charles wasn’t the only one that hadn’t given up on their feelings about how the whole sorry mess was handled. Lady Edith lived in London with her daughter and ran the magazine that Mr. Gregson had left her. She had confessed the truth of her child shortly after Elsie had left. She’d been upset with her father from the moment he’d returned from London, angry that he’d made her handle the situation, and being separated from her child had just been too much.

Lady Mary, who had taken to coming down to visit with Charles in his pantry at night to make sure he was alright, had been every bit as angry at her father as Edith – the young ladies for once united about something. Charles knew that Lady Mary was only angry because she had seen how upset he was over the loss of Mrs. Hughes, but it had eased his aching heart some to know she cared for him as much as he cared for her. She had expressed the wish to have been free to leave as Edith had, but she knew that she had a duty to young Master George to raise him at Downton so that he would know and love the people and land he would one day be responsible for as the heir. She had married a year later, and had been travelling with her husband when both had been killed in an aeroplane crash, leaving young Master George to be raised by nannies and then to be sent off to boarding school to begin to prepare him for his life as the future Earl.

After the death of Lady Mary, even the Countess had moved to London and was living in Grantham House, when she was in England. She’d taken to spending time in America with her mother and brother, which brought her closer to Mr. Branson and the young Miss Sybie.

Nothing was the same as it had been before that fateful day.

Even a large part of the servants had scattered here and yon.

After Lady Mary was no longer there, Charles had retired and bought a cottage in the village to live in. Once he was gone, others slowly started leaving.

Daisy had left and gone to live on the farm with Mr. Mason, choosing to continue her studies. Mr. Mason had helped her set up a small business venture selling jams that she made using fruits and berries he grew on the land. The young woman was thriving, and always made sure to come visit bearing gifts of his favorite jam and pastries.

Mr. Bates and Anna had left after Lady Mary’s wedding and were now living in Ireland near his family – their own family having grown by one little miss named Elsie. They wrote frequently, telling of how things were going for them running their little inn, of how the little one was growing. The last letter had spoken of wishing that the lass could meet the woman she was named for. He had written back and asked them to start making plans to bring little Elsie to Downton Village in a month, telling them that he would explain everything in detail then.

Molesley and Ms. Baxter had married shortly after Molesley’s father had passed and left his home and gardens to his son. The younger Molesley had become a steadier man with his wife by his side, and amazingly enough, the younger man was as good with flowers as his father had been. As long as he wore gloves and long sleeves. Ms. Baxter, now Mrs. Molesley, had used savings to open up a small shop, making dresses for the local ladies so that they didn’t have to travel all the way to Ripon or Thirsk. The couple visited him, Molesley, or Joseph as he had asked to be called after leaving service, had even helped Charles with the flowers he’d planted around his cottage.

Charles shook his head. The annoying man wasn’t so annoying anymore. The love a good woman, he supposed, could do that to a man.

Elsie’s love, he knew, would have made him a better man if only he’d given her half the chance to show him.

Now, he would be the one to show his love. He would use the love he had for this Scottish lass, the one who had stolen his heart so many years ago, to try and help her find her way back.

He would be her tall, steady lighthouse – his love the beacon.

 

~*~

 

“How long were you going to hide, Carson?” Violet asked as she studied the man staring out the sitting room windows.

“I’m sorry, My Lady. I just,” he shook his head, clearing his throat to keep the waver from his voice.

“Carson? What is it? You told me you found her, and I know that you had to pay her husband to be able to take her away,” she paused and pursed her lips as a sudden terrible thought occurred to her. “Carson…”

Charles knew that tone, knew what the grand dame was going to ask. Turning from the window, he looked at Violet as he answered the question she hadn’t asked with words. “He hurt her, My Lady. The reason I’ve been hiding is because I’ve been helping Mrs. Crawley take care of Elsie. I knew that if I left Crawley House, people would ask if I’d found Elsie and other questions, and I wasn’t ready to answer.”

“And are you ready to answer them now?”

“If you ask, I will do my best to answer.”

“I wasn’t speaking of myself, Carson. What you’ve told me, and the look in your eyes as you said the words, told me all that I need to know. I was speaking of those in the village that will be curious. Of my son if he happens to see you.”

“Oh, I’ve seen him. We crossed paths when I was taking care of a few errands in the village. He tried to speak to me, but I’m afraid I was rather rude. I know as a proper Englishman, I should let my grudge go, but,”

Violet interrupted. “I know you, Carson. You had given up your grudge. Then you found Miss Hughes and now it’s more than a grudge you hold against my son.”

“I’m sorry, My Lady.”

Violet held up her hand. “No need for apologies, Carson. I’ll do my best to keep my son from confronting you. I’ll also do what I can to keep gossip in the village to a minimum.”

“Thank you, My Lady. I,”

“Yes, Carson?”

“I need your help with something else. I’m sorry to keep asking things of you, and when I can, I intend to do my best to pay you back the money I borrowed for Elsie.”

“Never mind any of that. What is it you need?”

“The name of a good lawyer to help Elsie with a divorce.”

“I’ll call Murray tomorrow. He’ll know who to call. We’ll get the best for her, Carson. I promise. No woman should be treated as Miss Hughes has been.”

“Thank you, My Lady. Thank you.”

“I keep telling you thanks isn’t necessary. The years of service you gave to my family, you and Miss Hughes, you deserve all the help I can give. Especially after the way she was treated in the end. I know nothing of Scottish traditions and such, but I can have Lord Flintshire look into it as well. He may be able to find something to help the case.”

Charles opened his mouth to say thank you once again, but a look from Violet had him shrugging his shoulders helplessly and closing his mouth.

Violet shook her head. “Go back to Miss Hughes, Carson. It’s getting late and you don’t want to worry her.”

Charles nodded and held up his hand when Violet reached for the bell by her chair. “I can see myself out, My Lady. No need to strain Mr. Spratt with the impropriety of escorting me out.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “That man is getting entirely too snobbish. Maybe that’s what you can do for me, Carson.”

“Be your butler, My Lady?” Carson asked, a bushy eyebrow raised.

“No, you have better things to do. You do, however, know who would be a good replacement, I’m sure.”

“I could make some inquiries, if that is what you wish, My Lady.”

“I do wish. I’m tired of the nonsense.”

“I will send out a few letters to some of my acquaintances with tomorrow’s post.”

“Very well. Good evening, Carson.” Violet watched the man leave, her normally cool countenance falling once she was sure she was alone.

Elsie Hughes, abused.

Three years of living in that hell.

What had they done?


	14. Chapter 14

Richard smiled as Elsie looked up at him. “How does your jaw feel?”

“A bit stiff.” Elsie answered quietly, her gaze fixed on her hands which were fidgeting in her lap.

Richard looked up at Isobel, who sat to the side and just behind Elsie, and received a sad look in response. “What about your ribs?”

“A little sore.” Once again her answer was quiet, her gaze still fixed on her hands.

Richard closed his eyes and cursed the man that had done this. He’d taken an oath to do no harm, but by God, if he were to ever meet Connell McNeil, someone would have to hold him back to keep him from strangling the man.

Isobel watched the emotions crossing her husband’s face, and felt her heart swell with love for him. He was the kind of man every woman deserved, a true man, a man that loved and respected her – a man that she knew was struggling with the murderous feelings that went against everything he believed in.

Richard opened his eyes and reached out, his hand palm up as he stopped it just in the line of Elsie’s sight. The action got her attention and she glanced up at him from under her lashes. “Lift your head, Lass. You never have to avert your gaze away from any man or woman. Never, Lass. You’re as good as I, as good as Isobel, or anyone else in this village.”

Elsie shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m,” she started then shook her head again. “I’m not.”

Isobel felt white hot anger surge through her even as tears filled her eyes. Moving from her chair, she knelt next to the chair Elsie was sitting in. Looking up at her friend, she slowly reached out and laid a hand over Elsie’s. “You, Elsie Hughes, are the strongest woman I have ever met. You ran a household like a fine tuned clock. Anna, bless her, loves you like a mother. You taught them all well, kept most of them out of trouble. You helped Ethel when she came to you. I know how you helped dear William when he was homesick and after his mother’s death. You did that Elsie. You.” Isobel smiled as she gently squeezed Elsie’s hands. “You, and no one else, calmed Carson when he would bluster and shout. You helped ease him into change, Elsie. No small feat from what I’ve been told. It was all you. Strong, beautiful, with a caring heart and soul, Elsie Hughes.”

“I’m not those things. I’m nothing but a,”

“Don’t you dare say that, Elsie.” Richard scolded gently, his voice steady and calm. “You are those things, and so much more. I watched you face possible death, Elsie. I’ve never had a patient face it with such strength. Elsie,” he lowered his voice then continued. “I have a friend I would like you to talk to.”

“No. No. No.” Elsie felt herself start to panic. “No,” she whispered as she pulled away and moved across the room, putting herself in the corner. Her whole body was trembling with each shake of her head, her hands fisted in her dress. She knew what Richard was going to suggest, and she knew that there was no way she could do it. She never talked about what had happened to her in those three years, not to anyone, and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to. It wasn’t her place to speak ill of her husband. She was his property, after all, and he could do with her what he saw fit.

Isobel and Richard both sighed and looked at each other. They knew what Elsie was thinking, and had suspected this might be the way she reacted, but had both felt it was time to try and get her to open up to someone about the abuse.

A knock on the door startled them.

“I’ll go and see who it is.” Richard told Isobel quietly.

“I’m sure it’s Beryl or Charles.”

“I hope it’s Beryl.”

 

~*~

 

Everything had gone to the cottage his full last week as butler, just a few bits and bobs had been left on the desk to be packed. He remembered wanting to leave right then and there after he’d told the Earl he was leaving, but had instead agreed to stay on for two more weeks, the most that he was willing to give.

Charles reached out to the mantel of his fireplace, his fingers caressing the familiar ridges of the spiral seashell feeling the chips and dings acquired from knocking about on his desk and then sitting and being knocked off this mantel over the last year. He felt a bit like the old shell, battered and worn, but still solid and reliable. Something Elsie needed now.

Thinking back to the outing, of walking hand in hand into the sea, combing the beach for seashells at sunset – that had been a turning point in his life, their lives, but not in the way he had begun to hope for as he had said goodbye to her at Grantham House, her, _“I’ll see you in two weeks, Mr. Carson,”_ still ringing in his ears.

He hadn’t known, as he thought of how things would change once he returned to Downton, that their goodbyes had been their last.

He still found it hard to believe that he hadn’t been told of Elsie’s leaving by the Earl so that he would be prepared for her absence when he returned back to Downton Village. As it was, he had walked through the back door to be met by Daisy, who had told him the lie that had been perpetuated by the family about how Mrs. Hughes had gone to take care of her sister who had taken ill.

He growled at the thought of Alba McLean, wretched woman that she was. He still had trouble grasping how one’s own flesh and blood could be so cruel as to basically send their sibling into the pits of hell.

Putting the shell back on the mantel, he turned and headed out of his cottage. His feet taking the path that would lead him to Crawley House. He had a blue eyed lass to check on.

He had thought about telling her that the Dowager was helping him try to procure a divorce from that horrid man, but then he’d thought better of it. Elsie wasn’t in any shape to hear that man’s name, much less discuss dissolving their marriage. What she needed now was just to be loved and taken care of by people who only had her best interest at heart. People like himself, Beryl, Mrs. Clarkson, and Dr. Clarkson. Elsie also need them to help her get her self esteem back.

He hated how she wouldn’t meet their eyes. He missed the fiery Scottish lass that would argue with him toe to toe, occasionally poking a finger in his chest when she was especially put out with him.

If he could hear her yell at him, just once, it would be like music to his ears.


	15. Chapter 15

Beryl held Elsie close as she trembled against her, crying and whimpering, “No. No. No,” over and over again.

“Shh, Lass. It’s alright. I’ve got you. Dr. Clarkson is sorry. He was only trying to help. You know that he wouldn’t hurt you.”

Elsie shivered as she burrowed closer to Beryl. “I can’t. Isn’t my place.”

Beryl sighed as she gently rubbed a hand up and down over Elsie’s back. “Lass, you have to talk about it so that you can heal. You can’t bottle it all up. I’ll listen, you know that. He hurt you, Elsie. No man has that right.”

“Husband does.”

Beryl swallowed down her nasty retort, knowing that what Elsie said was the truth. A husband did have the right to do as he saw fit with what the law saw as his property. “The law is wrong, Elsie. No human has the right to beat and abuse another.”

“Wasn’t submissive. Was supposed to be.” Elsie mumbled.

“I was raised by God fearing parents, Elsie, and my father never beat or did worse to my mother on the premise of submission or her lack of it. That man was wrong, Elsie. You did nothing to deserve,” Beryl’s voice broke. “Mrs. Clarkson told me everything they treated you for when Charles brought you home.”

Elsie sobbed as she turned away from Beryl, curling up on her side. “The pain. I’ve never,” another sob escaped. “I tried to run. I tried.”

Beryl tenderly tugged Elsie back to her and held her close. “Shh, Lass. That’s enough for now.”

“He broke my leg.” Elsie choked out.

Beryl felt bile rise in her throat and swallowed hard to contain it. No wonder her friend had been trapped into a marriage she didn’t want. “He had no right, Lass. No right,” she whispered as she gently rocked Elsie back and forth.

“Story.” Elsie whispered after she’d calmed a bit.

Beryl smiled at the request. Elsie had taken to asking for a story from her friend when she needed to forget her nightmares and memories. “About a young Charlie Carson?”

“Charlie?”

“Yes, we called him that before he left.”

Elsie wondered briefly if Beryl knew the truth of what Charles had done when he left. “Tell me?”

“Well, he was very tall even then, though he didn’t fill a doorway as he does now. His eyebrows weren’t quite so impressive back then, either.” Beryl felt Elsie’s mouth turn up a bit and knew that she was smiling. She’d hoped that bit would make her friend happy and was glad it had worked. “The young maids were always fawning over Charlie, though he never took notice. You remember the mess with Alfred, Daisy, Ivy, and Jimmy? How the girls were fawning over the two? Well, that’s how the girls were with Charlie. The other footmen were always angry with him because they could never get the attention they wanted from the maids. They also weren’t fond of the fact that he seemed to always be in favor with the Countess. Then a strange thing happened one day. The boys had all decided to play a prank on Charlie to pay him back for the slights they thought he’d caused them. Well, the prank involved an object in his path to make him trip and fall, but it didn’t exactly go as they’d planned. He did indeed trip, but instead of falling, he managed to do a bit of a jig and dance and fumble. I can’t describe it properly, but he had them all in stitches by the time he was through. After that, the other boys started spending time with Charlie and then it was the girls that were put out. He was a heart breaker and didn’t know it. Then he was gone and no one had a clue what happened. When he came back, he wasn’t Charlie anymore. Charles became the first footman and then spent time as young Lord Robert’s valet. When Mr. Inch announced that he was going to retire after the holiday season, he promoted Charles to under-butler and began to train him to take his place. By the time he became butler, I didn’t recognize him anymore.” Beryl felt Elsie’s even breathing and sighed, thankful that her friend had finally felt peaceful enough to sleep.

Looking up when the door slowly opened, she gently eased herself away from Elsie. “Shh, Lass. Sleep,” she whispered when Elsie stirred.

Isobel was shocked when Beryl broke down the minute she stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. “What is it?” she asked the upset woman.

Beryl fished her handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and wiped her nose, taking a deep breath before speaking. “She told me a bit,” she started then covered her mouth to stop the cry from slipping out. “He broke her leg,” she started again then swallowed to finish. “That’s why she wound up married to him.”

Isobel closed her eyes against the sting of tears that suddenly threatened. “Dear god,” she breathed.

“I need to go back to her. I don’t want her waking up in the bed alone. The state she was in, she’d wind up back in the corner.”

Isobel nodded. “I only came up to tell you that I’m going out. Cousin Violet sent word that she would like to see me. I suspect she’s finally decided to let me know that she knows Elsie is here.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Mr. Carson will be stopping by at some point.”

“I’ll leave the door open so that I hear his knock just in case you haven’t returned.”

Isobel nodded. “Will Elsie talk to you?”

“I’ll be the only one she does, _if_ she does. Talking to a stranger, especially a man, she won’t. She doesn’t think it’s her place to speak ill of the bastard.” Beryl spit out.

Isobel reached out and squeezed Beryl’s arm. “We’ll get her through this. All of us together. I’m sorry Richard and I upset her. We should have told her that I would have been with her the whole time she was talking to the doctor. We never would have let her be by herself.”

“Deep down, she knows that. She’s just so mixed up and broken.”

 

~*~

 

Charles sat quietly talking to Beryl as they watched over Elsie sleeping. “He did what? What was he thinking?” he growled.

“Now Charles, easy. Isobel admitted that they should have told Elsie that Isobel would be with her at all times, but you must admit, she does need to talk about what happened. She can’t keep it all inside or she’ll never heal.”

Charles studied his friend. “Beryl, you’ve never,”

“No.” Beryl shook her head. “My aunt, though nothing like Elsie.” Looking back over at her friend curled up in the bed, she felt her eyes watering again. “She told me she tried to run away.” She turned her gaze back to Charles. “He broke her leg. That’s why she wound up married to him.”

Charles’ hands tightened into fists, the same anger he’d felt the day he nearly strangled Connell McNeil boiling through his veins once again. “I should have killed him,” he muttered.

“And what good would that have done our Elsie?”

“She would know she was safe from him ever finding her.”

“And she would be less the man that loves her.” Beryl rested a hand over one of Charles’ fists. “She needs you, Charles. I can listen to her when she talks. I can lay beside her to get her to sleep in the bed instead of on the floor where she thinks she belongs. Dr. Clarkson and Mrs. Clarkson can look after her physically and provide her with a safe place to stay, but none of us can do for her what you can.”

“I don’t know how to fix her,” he whispered, his hands unclenching as he watched Elsie stir. “I don’t know how.”

“Love her like a real man should love a woman. Show her how to be herself again.”

“I don’t know if I,”

“Just love her, Charlie.” Beryl whispered, using the nickname from his youth, hoping to remind him of the fearless, young man he’d once been.

Charles looked at Beryl. It had been years since she’d called him that. Years since he hadn’t flinched at the name. “I’ve never thought of doing any less,” he finally answered just as Elsie’s eyes fluttered open.

Beryl smiled at Elsie as she slowly sat up, wiping sleep from her eyes. “I’ll go make us some tea. A few chocolate biscuits, Elsie?”

“Shortbread?”

Beryl nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

Elsie nodded as she carefully moved off the bed to sit in a nearby chair. Reaching up, she snarled at the mess her hair was in then looked up at Charles through her lashes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before trying to fix her hair.

Charles shook his head. “No need to apologize, Lass. You’ve been napping. You should see the mess mine gets in when I sleep.” He smiled then winked at her as he reached up to muss his hair. “See, just like this,” he puffed out a breath to try and blow the unruly curl from his forehead.

Looking down at her hands, Elsie smiled slightly. “Charlie,” she whispered, remembering Beryl’s story.

Charles smiled, happy to see the slight upturn of her mouth. “Beryl’s been telling tales again I see.”

“I asked.” Elsie whispered.

“Lass, won’t you look at me? It’s just me. Just your grumpy butler.” Charles’ voice was low and rumbling. “You’ve looked at me a thousand times over the years. You’ve always been the only one to see behind the mask I wore. I haven’t changed, not really. The mask of butler is no longer here, but everything else you always saw is still the same.”

Elsie listened to the low rumble and found it as soothing as she always had. It meant safety and something else she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. She’d spent three years keeping her eyes lowered as she was told to, but now she was being asked to look up, to look someone in the eyes. Beryl was the only one that she even half way looked at. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked up, her eyes locking with Charles’. They were the same shining dark eyes she’d seen so many times before only there was a sadness that had never been present in the past.

Charles kept his gaze steady, smiling softly as he let Elsie study him. “See, just me,” he whispered as best he could.

Beryl watched quietly from the door, tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched Elsie look her fill of Charles. Even though she’d told Charles he could fix Elsie by loving her, deep down she had been afraid they wouldn’t be able to put the pieces of Elsie back together. Seeing this gave her hope.

God bless the return of Charlie Carson.


	16. Chapter 16

“You’re responsible for this!”

Sean blinked in surprise at the hissing woman in front of him. “Alba, what the bleedin’ hell are you on about!”

“Don’t you go blaspheming in this house, Sean McLean!”

“Then stop hissing at me! Now what have I done?”

“You told _that_ _man_ where Elsie was. He’s kidnapped her. Showed up and beat her mister then kidnapped her!”

Sean stared down at his wife. “I didn’t know where Elsie was, so I couldn’t possibly have told Mr. Carson where to find her.” Looking behind his wife, he noticed a bag sitting by the door. “What is that?” he asked, pointing to it, already knowing the answer. “Just what do you think you’re going to do?”

“That is my bag. And I think, no, I know, I’m going to go and get my sister and take her back where she belongs. The good Lord only knows what _that_ _man_ has done to her.”

Sean gaped at his wife. “I think you should be more worried about what _that_ _man_ you married her off to has done to her.”

“He is a good, upstanding man of the church. What could you possibly think he would do to her?”

Sean found himself gaping at his wife again. The woman had lost what sanity she’d had. “Alba, have you lost what brains the good Lord gave you?”

“How dare you!” she hissed.

“Down Dragon,” he scowled at her. “If you’re going on a trip, I’m going with you. I don’t believe that Mr. Carson would just walk off with a married woman. There is more to this story than that letter tells.”

“You can’t just up and leave the farm.”

“I can. The boys can deal with things until I return.” Sean just raised an eyebrow when Alba scowled at him. “You’re not going to go there and cause trouble for Elsie. She’s paid enough for the slight you think she caused the family name.”

“Slight? She left the man she was to marry standing at the altar.”

Sean shook his head. “No, Alba, she didn’t. You know that she and Joe never got that far. She went into service to earn money to help them in their lives together. You didn’t know that, did you? She was going to marry the man, but then she found that she was good at what she was doing, that she enjoyed it. She gently told Joe that she couldn’t marry him because she realized that she couldn’t marry a man that she didn’t love. You’ve been angry at her for making up her own mind all of these years, and it’s made you a bitter shrew. The sad thing is, I actually have loved you, Alba. I never found our arrangement to be a bad thing, but you did, and you’ve taken it out on your little sister ever since.” Sean walked away before his wife could hiss at him. He had a bag to pack.

Ten minutes later he found himself standing in an empty house, the bag his wife had packed missing from its place beside the door.

“Damned woman!” he yelled as he rushed out of the house with his own bag, heading to the barn to saddle his fastest horse.

He’d have to ride over to where he knew his sons were working to tell them they were to look after things for a few days before he could go the rest of the way to the station. Alba would have enough of a head start, she might just make it out on a train before him.

Heavens above, he hoped that Elsie wasn’t alone when Alba found her.

 

~*~

 

Isobel carefully brushed out Elsie’s hair. Her thoughts turning to the hell the woman had lived through and how it had turned her once auburn locks nearly all white. A few wispy strands still held onto their color, and it made her ponder the semblance they offered. The hair was soft and healthy, much better then it had been when she’d been brought home, and yet Isobel knew that it would never return to its former color. It would forever be a reminder of Elsie’s three years of hell though those few dark strands left gave her hope that there was still a little of the old Elsie buried somewhere beneath all of the heartbreak and pain.

“Would you like me to plait it for you?” she asked Elsie, knowing that lifting her arms might still be too painful. “I know that Mrs. Patmore has done so the last few times, but I really don’t mind.”

Elsie shook her head. “Just leave it loose, please. My head hurts.”

Isobel put the brush back on the vanity. “Alright. Would you like something for your headache? I have some powders.”

“Please.”

“I’ll put them in some tea for you. That will at least help the taste some.”

“Thank you.” Elsie whispered, her eyes closing against the pain pounding in her head. She wasn’t sure what had brought on the headache, but she was sure she could have done without it. She had enjoyed having days where she was pain free after spending three years in nothing but pain of one kind or the other.

“Elsie.” Isobel whispered as she sat the cup down on the vanity.

Elsie started a bit then opened her eyes, the steam from the tea greeting her. “Thank you,” she whispered before lifting the cup and taking a careful sip. The warmth of the perfectly prepared cup soothed her as it slid down her throat, infusing her body with the medicinal powers of the added ingredient that she noticed gave the tea a slight bitter aftertaste.

“Would you like for me to pull the drapes? Is the light bothering you?” Isobel asked, her voice low to keep from aggravating the pain she knew the other woman was in from the furrow of her brow.

“Yes, please.” Elsie answered in between sips of her tea.

Isobel moved about the room, easily and as quietly as possible, pulling the drapes, bathing the room in as much darkness as one could with the mid-day sun shining in through the windows. “I’ll let you rest,” she told Elsie as she lifted the now empty cup. “I’ll be just right downstairs if you need me. If you wake and find that you’re feeling better, you’re welcome to come down and join me in the sitting room. I would enjoy the company as I wait for Dr. Clarkson to come home.”

Elsie nodded, not sure of what to say as she slowly made her way to the bed, hesitating as she always did, still unsure of simply climbing in. Beryl’s words always floated back to her and the hesitation would slip away. This bed was hers to sleep in. Mrs. Clarkson had made it up just for her. No one else.

Isobel pulled the door to quietly, tears rolling down her cheeks because of the small victory she’d just watched. She knew what it was that had caused Elsie to hesitate before climbing into the bed, but she had no clue what it was that had eased her enough to allow her to climb in and settle down to rest – she didn’t much care what it was though. All she cared about was that Elsie had willingly climbed into the bed to sleep.

They were making progress.


	17. Chapter 17

Elsie startled awake. She heard shouting, a voice she recognized filtering up to her. Panic seized her and she struggled out of the bed.

Alba had come to take her back to Connell.

Take her back to hell.

She couldn’t do that.

She had to run.

Had to get away.

No one to stop her this time, she snuck out of her room and down the back stairs, her heart pounding as she rushed out the door and ran through the garden. Blinded by tears, she didn’t look where she was going, didn’t see her surroundings, or the people looking at her strangely. All she did was run.

Charles, on his way to Crawley House, saw a blur shoot through a bush at the back of the garden. “Dear god,” he breathed as he turned and began to run after the retreating figure. The light glancing of white hair told him just exactly who it was. He had no clue why Elsie was running. No idea what had happened, all he knew was that he had to catch her before she got hurt.

Elsie ran as fast as she could, her lungs protesting the gasping breaths she was taking. Her eyes were still blurred with tears, her brain in a fog of the same repeated phrase over and over.

I mustn’t let her send me away again.

I mustn’t let her send me away again.

The words kept swirling around her brain, blocking out the sound of Charles’ voice calling out her name.

Charles felt his heart stutter in his chest when he saw Elsie trip and fall, his feet and legs moving faster towards her. “Elsie,” he called as he stopped beside her. “Elsie. Lass, it’s Charles.”

“No. No. I have to run. I can’t go back. She can’t send me back!” Elsie cried as she struggled to get up, her ankles caught in a bramble.

“Easy, Lass.” Charles kept his voice low. “It’s Charlie. Look. Look, Lass.”

Elsie blinked and looked up. “Charlie?”

“Yes. It’s me. I need you to hold still so I can free your feet. Okay?”

“I have to go, Charlie. She’ll send me back. You promised I wouldn’t have to go,” she cried.

“Elsie, you’re not going anywhere. I always keep my promises, especially the ones made to my favorite blue eyed Scottish lass.” Charles smiled then moved and carefully untangled Elsie’s feet.

Elsie calmed somewhat as she waited for her feet to be free. She knew Charles meant safety, but she also knew her sister. She would send her back, no matter what Charles promised. Feeling her feet finally free of the bramble, she pushed herself up and started to run again.

“Elsie!” Charles called as he took off after her. Easily catching up to her this time, he gently grabbed her arm. “I’m not going to hurt you, Lass.” He assured her when she looked at him wildly. “I don’t know what’s happened. I only know that if you keep running, you’ll get hurt worse than you are. You’ve no coat or shoes, Elsie.” He watched her face crumble, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“She’s here, Charles.” Elsie whispered around a sob.

“Oh Lass. Who?” Charles asked as he pulled her gently to him, doing his best not to frighten her. “Let me hold you?”

Elsie leaned against him, remembering that this embrace was safe. Charles’ chest was solid, his arms strong, but she knew that he would never hurt her. He had only ever protected her. “My sister. She’s here to take me back,” she finally answered. She felt Charles tense and tried to pull away, frightened by the reaction.

“No, Lass. Easy. I’m not angry at you.” Charles gently assured her as he rubbed her back. Feeling her shiver, he let go long enough to take off his coat and wrap it around her. “Now, let me take you home.”

“No. No.” Elsie shook her head. “Please. She’s there.”

“And when I take you back, I will be there. I promised, Elsie. She won’t take you back.”

 

~*~

 

Isobel had been shocked at the venom of the woman who called herself Elsie’s sister. She’d tried to explain that Elsie was not to be disturbed, that she was resting because of her head hurting, but the woman was having none of it.

Then Richard had come in.

And all hell had broke loose.

She’d never seen her husband so angry.

She’d certainly never heard him speak so rapidly and in another language, one she vaguely recognized as his native Gaelic.

Then, in the midst of the yelling match going on, another man had stormed through the still open front door, his face going pale as he heard and understood what Richard was saying.

It was then that Isobel realized, Elsie’s sister had stopped yelling, her own face showing her…something…what Isobel wasn’t sure.

Looking at her husband, Isobel finally understood what he was saying, though she still didn’t understand the language. When she saw the man, she assumed must be Elsie’s brother-in-law, fall back against the wall, she reached out and touched Richard’s arm.

“Enough, Darling,” she whispered.

Richard calmed instantly at his wife’s touch and soft voice. Turning, he pulled her to him, burying his face in her neck, ashamed of his actions – of letting his anger get the better of him.

“My god, Alba. What have you done?” Sean finally managed to whisper. “What have you done?”

“I don’t believe you.” Alba said as she glared at Isobel and Richard who had parted from their embrace and now stood side by side.

Richard’s hand that rested on Isobel’s hip, tightened its grip. “I assure you, I wasn’t lying. Nor did I tell you everything. Would you like to know the rest? Or would you simply believe I’m making that up as well?”

Sean blinked. “There’s more? My god, what kind of monster was this man?”

“The worst kind.”   Isobel answered.

The tone of Isobel’s voice told Sean all that he had begun to fear was true. He felt physically ill and was just about to rush outside when the tall, broad form of Charles Carson filled the door. “Mr. Carson,” he breathed then frowned at the figure in the man’s arms, his coat blocking out the face, leaving nothing but tangled white hair visible.

Charles paid the man no mind, his eyes were fixed on Alba. “Get out,” he told her, his tone one of controlled seething. It would have been his usual booming, commanding tone, but the woman in his arms would have been frightened by it and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Mr. Carson, what happened?” Richard asked as he moved to check the battered feet and legs dangling over Charles’ arm.

“She heard _that woman_ and panicked,” he whispered, his gaze never leaving Alba. “I was coming here and saw her come out of the garden in a blind run. I chased after her and caught up with her when her legs got tangled in a bramble.”

Isobel, her jaw twitching as she tried to control her anger, turned to Alba. “Out of my house. Now.”

“That isn’t my sister.” Alba insisted.

Charles narrowed his eyes. “Move the coat away from her face,” he whispered, knowing that Elsie had sobbed herself to sleep.

Richard reached up and gently moved the coat way so that Elsie’s face was exposed. He heard the gasp and looked up to see the man he’d realized was Alba’s husband swallowing several times.

“Dear god.” Sean breathed. “Oh Elsie.” He moved to touch Elsie and Charles stepped back.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t. If she woke while you were touching her, it might frighten her.” Charles explained quietly.

Sean nodded then turned and looked at his wife. “Get out, Alba, and don’t bother going home. You aren’t welcome. You sent your sister into hell, Alba. And for what? Your bloody jealousy? Leave.”

Richard, finished with dealing with the woman that he had the strong desire to hit, guided Charles into the sitting room where they gently lay Elsie down on the settee. “Isobel,”

“I’ll get the warm water and your bag,” she smiled at him as she turned back to see just Sean standing in the door. “You may stay if you’d like. I think Elsie might be okay seeing you.”

Sean nodded. “Thank you.”

“Close the door, please, and then go into the sitting room and have a seat.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Sean closed the door then slowly made his way into the sitting room. Stopping when Charles looked up at him, he swallowed. “I promise, I won’t do anything to scare her.”

Charles nodded then returned his attention to Elsie who began to stir. “Easy, Lass. Dr. Clarkson is going to take care of your legs and feet then we’ll settle you in your bed. You’re safe, Elsie. She’s gone.”

Elsie, her gaze fixed on Charles’ saw what she needed then reached out and clasped his hand. “Don’t leave me, Charlie.”

“Never, Lass.” Charles assured her. “There’s someone here that would like to say hello.”

Sean moved so that Elsie could see him. “Hello, Lassie.”

Elsie’s eyes widened and she squirmed to get away. “You said she was gone!”

“Easy, Elsie.” Sean told her. “I sent her away. She’s gone. Charles didn’t lie. I’ll leave if you’d like.”

Looking back at Charles, Elsie studied him again. “True?”

“True.”

Elsie clasped his hand again and settled back down just as Isobel came back. “My head hurts,” she murmured.

“We’ll take care of that.” Richard assured her. “As soon as I finish cleaning your scratches and cuts, I’ll give you something that will help all of the aches. I promise.”

Elsie nodded, keeping her eyes on Charles. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“No, Lass. No need to be sorry. You were afraid. It’s alright.” He smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright and you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”


	18. Chapter 18

Charles watched Elsie sleep. She’d been fitful since she’d been tucked in, and as he’d feared would happen, she’d wound up back on the pallet in the corner.

Damn Alba and her showing up here without so much as a, _how do you do_.

When he’d come back to Elsie’s room and found her curled up in the corner, Charles had sighed and took up his familiar spot beside her, back resting against the wardrobe.

And that’s where he still was. He kept his hand near hers but not touching. He didn’t want to frighten her but he also wanted her to know he was there. He’d promised.

He’d had news about her divorce that he wished to share, but he hadn’t had the chance.

The thought made him angry again.

The man wasn’t married to her.

At least not by England’s laws he wasn’t.

Some strange old Scottish marriage custom of just simply putting on a wedding band and declaring you’re married. He thought the same thing now as he had when the Dowager had told him.

What the bloody hell?

Elsie had been through three years of torment…the bastard!

He scowled.

When he’d learned the truth, he’d wanted nothing more than to go and beat Connell McNeil into a pile of the dust with which he’d been created. The man had broke Elsie’s leg, Charles knew that much from what Beryl had told him, so he could only guess that they had been with a doctor instead of the minister. Why there had been no _real_ marriage after, Charles could only guess.

With this new bit of truth, Charles knew he could now face Elsie and ask her to marry him. Ask her to let him take care of her, give her a home and safety, give her everything she needs, wants, hopes for.

Hearing Elsie stir, Charles hummed a song from the Great War, a song that had stuck with him the first time he’d heard it, always reminding him of Elsie when he’d heard it there after. As he hummed, the words floated through his brain, _I have an ear for music, and I have an eye for a maid. I link a pretty girlie with each pretty tune that’s played. They go forth together like sunny weather goes with the month of May. I’ve studied girls and music, so I’m qualified to say._ He wasn’t sure just how qualified his singing tunes in his misbegotten past made him, but he had, since the day he met her, linked Elsie with different songs.

The chorus of the song was the part that fit him, was what had made him link this song to Elsie.

Hearing Elsie’s murmured, “Charlie,” he began to sing the words as quietly as he could manage.

“A pretty girl is like a melody, that haunts you night and day. Just like the strain of a haunting refrain, she’ll start upon a marathon and run around your brain. You can’t escape,” Charles paused when he saw Elsie’s eyes flutter open. Smiling tenderly when she reached out and clasped his hand, he finished when she gave it a squeeze. “You can’t escape, she’s in your memory. By morning, night, and noon, she will leave you and then come back again. A pretty girl is just like a pretty tune.”

Elsie snuggled her face against the hand she held, her sleepy eyes holding Charles’ gaze as he gently caressed his thumb against her cheek.

“You’re safe, Lass. Won’t you let me help you back to the bed? I won’t leave. I promised.”

Elsie glanced down at his hand then back up at him. “Won’t let go?”

Charles shook his head, smiling at the sleepy way she spoke and looked at him. “Come on then, Lass,” he whispered as he pushed himself up and then held out his hand. “Let me help you. You’re feet and legs must be sore.”

“A bit,” she whispered as she stood and held onto Charles’ arms.

Charles helped her ease back into the bed, tucking the linens and duvet around her. “Warm enough?”

“Mmm,” she murmured. “Charlie?” she asked after a few moments.

“Yes, Lass?” Charles answered, his hand gently holding hers as he’d promised.

“The song, was it for me?”

“Oh yes, Lass. I sang when I was part of the Cheerful Charlies, but once I left that life, I never sang again, until a certain Scottish lass showed up at the back door of Downton. Of course, no one ever heard me singing, but so many songs made me think of you.”

“I heard you,” she whispered.

Charles nodded. “I know you did. I saw you watching me.”

Elsie shook her head, drawing his hand back up to her face and snuggling against it as she had before. “No. Dashing away,” she murmured as she slowly gave into the sleep she’d been fighting.

Charles blinked in surprise. She’d heard him that day? Why had she never said? Did she know that he knew of her scare? Gently caressing his thumb over her cheek bone, he watched her sleep, thinking about how frightened he’d been back then and how relieved he’d been that day when Beryl had told him it wasn’t cancer.

If only this could be resolved as that had been.

 

~*~

 

Isobel sighed as she settled back into bed, her body curled into her husband’s. “He’s with her and finally talked her back into the bed. He’s going to be very sore tomorrow from sitting up in that chair all night, but he made a promise to her.”

Richard pressed a kiss to his wife’s head as his hand caressed her back. “I just hope that this is the only bit of set back Elsie has.”

Isobel kissed Richard’s chest and moved closer to him. “I think she made a breakthrough today. She ran Richard. She fought back even though she was frightened. She did what she’d tried to do before and succeeded because there was no one there to stop her.”

“You think that if we’d heard her, and stopped her, it would have hurt her more than protected her?”

“I do. She needed to run, Richard. You know that she hasn’t really cried since she was brought home, but she did today. She sobbed herself to sleep.”

“And she needed that.” Richard whispered as he inhaled the sweet fragrance of his wife. “What news do you think Mr. Carson has to tell her?”

“More than likely something to do with the divorce he asked Cousin Violet to help him with. I hope it’s good news, but I suspect it isn’t.”

“I fear you’re right.” Richard sighed. “What do you think Elsie’s sister will do?”

“I don’t know, nor do I care as long as she leaves here and never comes near Elsie again. I shudder to think what would have happened had Beryl been here.”

“Oh laird.” Richard murmured. “I lashed out with words of truth, she would have beat the woman. She’s a fierce little thing who’s spent years wielding heavy knives and pots. Not someone I’d want to run into when they’re as angry as she is over what’s happened to Elsie.”

“Sean said he would stay in the village another day to make sure his wife left and to see Elsie again.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or not.”

“I think she’ll be alright with him. She was calm enough once she’d been assured her sister was gone.”

They lapsed into silence, both of them thinking of the woman down the hall and the man whose love and devotion had him sitting up in an uncomfortable chair instead of sleeping in a comfortable bed.

“Richard?” Isobel whispered as she pushed herself up to look down at her husband.

“Yes, Lass?”

As her answer, she pressed her lips to his, her fingers tangling in his hair. She needed this, needed to be with her husband, to feel his love.

Gently rolling them over, Richard stared down at her. “I love you, Isobel.”

“That’s good because I love you, too.”


	19. Chapter 19

Something inside Alba had snapped the day she’d learned what had happened to her sister. Learning the truth the way she had, and then having her husband tell her never to come home, had been too much.

After leaving Crawley house, she had made her way to the train station, her mind set on one thing. Finding Connell McNeil.

Now, she stood looking around the burgh where her sister had lived the last three years, and thought about how deceptive the little shops and white church at the end of the street seemed to be. She wasn’t sure where Connell lived, so she started walking, pausing when she saw the sign for the doctor.

Deep down she knew that Elsie’s doctor had told her the truth, but she had to try one last time to prove him wrong, prove to herself that she hadn’t sent her sister into hell. This doctor would have seen to any injuries Elsie might have had while living here, he would know the truth.

Walking into the small office, she looked around, thankful that no one was there but what she thought must be the doctor’s nurse.

“Hello, Ma’am. May I help ye?”

“I want to see the doctor.”

The nurse blinked in surprise at the abruptness of Alba’s tone but nodded. “Follow me, please.”

Alba followed, demanding an answer from the man before the nurse had even left. “I want to know the truth about my sister.”

Dr. Shannon wasn’t sure what was going on and looked at his nurse then back to Alba. “Your sister?”

“Yes, my sister. Elsie McNeil.”

“Have a seat, Mrs.,” he paused waiting for the woman to give him her name.

“Never mind my name or me sitting. I want the truth.” Alba scowled then slipped into the Gaelic to repeat what she’d been told by Elsie’s doctor – Richard she thought she’d heard someone call him. Watching the old doctor’s face, she felt her own going pale – everything she’d been told was the truth.

“It’s all true. And there was so much more, that they don’t know of.” Dr. Shannon whispered. “A broken arm for not making the bed properly. A broken hand for not ironing his shirts the way he likes them. Broken fingers for,”

“Stop. Enough. Where is he?”

Dr. Shannon didn’t like the look in the woman’s eyes, but told her where to find Connell anyway, not realizing that the look was the madness taking over. “He’ll be closing up soon.”

“Fine. Fine.” Alba called over her shoulder as she walked out, leaving behind two very confused people.

“Ye don’t think she’ll be tryin’ something, do ye?”

Dr. Shannon shook his head. “Nothing but a split lip will come of it if she does.”

“Aye.” The nurse nodded then sighed. “The man’s a menace. I’m glad the lass was taken away.”

“Aye. So am I.”

 

~*~

 

Alba looked about the shop, having walked in to find who she assumed to be Connell, busy with a man that seemed to be very interested in the boxes of cigars. Connell had glanced up when she entered, his eyes raking over her, lingering on certain places longer than was proper before turning his attention back to the customer.

Moving around the store, Alba came across something that made her grin. She knew what it was, having lived on a farm all of her life, and wondered why it would be sitting out where anyone could accidently pick it up. Oh well, no matter, it would serve her purpose. Looking up to make sure she was still alone, she grabbed the item and stuck it in the pocket of her skirt then continued on in her perusal to keep up the appearance of being an interested buyer.

“Find something interesting?” Connell’s voice startled her as he came around the corner.

Alba hadn’t heard him, she’d been too busy formulating her plan, but she turned to look at the man and smiled. “Oh, I wasn’t really interested in anything. I came to see you. You see, I’m Alba, Elsie’s sister.”

“Mmm, I thought I noticed a resemblance to my wife. Have you come to tell me you’re bringing her home? That man had no right taking what’s mine.”

“I’ve come to discuss that with you. It won’t be easy getting her back, but maybe I could fix you some supper and tell you what I have planned?” Alba smiled at the man, knowing that she had him by the look in his eyes.

“Leave your husband at home tending to the farm?” Connell asked, sure that he’d found himself a play thing for the night. And a fine figure of a play thing she was, too. A little taller than her sister, smaller in places than he liked, but no matter, he could still get what he wanted from her. After all, it had been ever so long since he’d had a woman all to himself.

“My husband is of no concern. If you would show me to your kitchen, I’ll get started on your meal. I’m sure you’ve been without a good home cooked meal since that man took your wife.”

“Quite. It’s through that door and down the hall on the right. You’ll find everything you need.”

“I’m sure I will.” Alba smiled and walked off in the direction she’d been given.

Connell watched Alba walk away, his appetite growing as he thought of the fun he would be having tonight. Oh yes. This one would be quite fun. Maybe he’d keep her about for a while.

 

~*~

 

Alba sat watching Connell eat the meal and drink the tea she’d prepared with a little added secret ingredient, all thoughts focused on watching him suffer. “Enjoying your meal?”

“Have you been spoken to?” Connell asked, wondering what it was about women that made them think they had the right to talk out of turn. “In my home, women are to be silent until spoken to.”

“Or what? You’ll break my jaw as you did my sister’s? Rape me? Beat me into submission?” she grinned madly at him when he looked up at her.

“She’s my property. A man has a right to see that his wife submits and obeys him. I took what was mine by rights of marriage.” Connell told her calmly then frowned at the odd feeling that churned in his stomach.

“Something the matter?” Alba asked, knowing that the poison she’d put in the food and tea was beginning to work.

Connell narrowed his eyes as he squirmed in his chair. “What have you done, bitch?”

“You’ll suffer,” she answered him. “Just as you should. You broke her.” Alba whispered as she sat and watched the poison take its revenge.

“You poisoned me, you bitch!” Connell screamed before gasping and falling forward into his plate – death claiming him into the pits of hell.

Alba walked out the back door, disappearing into the night that had fallen over the burgh. Her mind completely gone, she wondered about, not noticing the cold rain that seeped through her clothes. Her sister was safe, the beast from hell had been returned.

“I’m sorry, Elsie. I’m sorry,” she cried as she fell, her voice echoing through the dark, heard by no one but the wind.


	20. Chapter 20

“Elsie, lass, I have something I need to tell you.” Charles whispered as he sat beside her on the bench in the garden at Crawley House.

Elsie cocked her head and studied her friend. She knew that tone in his voice, it always precluded news he wasn’t sure she would handle well. “Charlie?”

Holding his hand out, palm up, Charles waited until she’d placed her palm against his before curling his fingers around her tiny hand, so small it seemed to be swallowed up by his paw. “I know we haven’t spoken of your life away, but I learned something today that you need to know.”

Elsie tugged her hand from Charles’, shaking her head. “No, no, Charlie. No. We mustn’t. I nae can,”

It always threw Charles when Elsie would slip in her speech. Swallowing, he gently reached out and rested a hand over hers. “Easy, Lass. Just please listen. Please? Remember? I’m just Charlie.”

Chewing her bottom lip, Elsie looked down at his hand. Such a large hand, much larger than the hands that had beat and abused her, yet she knew without any doubts that this hand would never be used to harm her. This hand had only ever touched her with gentleness and kindness. “What is it, Charlie?”

Charles smiled, not knowing what she’d been thinking, just happy that whatever it was it had led her to letting him talk with her. “I asked the Dowager to help me free you,” he paused and gently patted her hand when he felt it tremble. “Mr. Murray found someone who handles such things and they approached _that man_ , but the answer was no. I didn’t tell you, because Mr. Murray had asked his friend to continue to do what he could to change the answer. In the mean time, Lord Flintshire had also been asked to help as he knows the laws and customs of your home country.” Looking up at Elsie, Charles held her gaze. “Lass,” his voice was as low as he could get it. “What happened that day? Why did he never properly marry you?”

Elsie stared at Charles in confusion. “But, I signed.”

“Not a marriage license, Lass. The minister confessed as much when confronted. What you signed were papers to keep you from getting anything should something happen to,” he growled then cleared his throat. “You were never married, Elsie. He just simply put a ring on your finger and declared you as such. A custom of your country, I’m told.”

Elsie nodded. “Old custom, but yes. It’s considered binding.”

“But not in England, Elsie. And it doesn’t matter now. I received a telegram today from Dr. Shannon. They found that bas,” he stopped to calm himself. “They found the man dead.”

Elsie blinked. Connell was dead? “Dead?”

“Yes, Lass. No more fear. You’re truly free.”

Elsie shook her head. “Alba.”

Charles sighed. “Elsie, they found her in the rain. She’d come to find the man and confront him.”

“You can say his name, Charlie.” Elsie interrupted.

“No, Lass. I can’t. He was a beast that didn’t deserve any bit of human kindness, and that includes me calling him by name.”

“Alba’s dead?” Elsie asked.

“Yes. She fell and hit her head on a rock. But, Elsie, Dr. Shannon said that he suspects she was the one that…well, she loved you in the end.”

Tears rolling down her cheeks, Elsie clasped Charles’ hand to her. “She loved me when we were wee lassies,” she whispered. “We spent summers running through the fields, laughing and chasing butterflies and the kittens that always seemed to live in our barn.”

Charles smiled. “Keep thinking of the good memories, Elsie. Let them be what you remember of your sister.”

“Charlie?”

“Yes, Lass?”

“I’m free.”

“Yes. Free.”

 

~*~

 

“I was surprised to receive your summons, Mama.” Robert sat in the Dower House sitting room staring across at his mother, still not sure why she’d wanted to see him.

“I’m sure you were, but there are things we must discuss.”

“What things?”

“I heard about your meeting Carson in the village. Seems it didn’t go well.”

“The man was rude. I’ve never known him to be that way. One would think after three years, he would be over his grudge against me. Not that he has a right to hold a grudge. I thought he understood protecting the family from scandal.”

Violet rolled her eyes at her son. “You took the word of Thomas Barrow, a man that you have wanted to get rid of on numerous occasions. Even in your usual ignorant state about what goes on in your household, you had to have known that Elsie Hughes and Charles Carson were always above reproach. How could you think they would do anything improper? They held hands, Robert. Nothing improper in that.”

“Oh come, Mama. Surely _you_ don’t believe that was all that was going on. Why would Barrow have said otherwise?”

“I didn’t raise you to be a fool.” Violet sighed and shook her head. “Or maybe I did. Your father often was.”

“Don’t besmirch my father’s good name.”

“Don’t speak to me in such a manner, Robert Crawley. Your father was a good man, kind to those in his employ and those that worked his land, but there were times that he was a fool.”

Robert shook his head. “Is this why you’ve summoned me? To call me names and talk ill of my father?”

Violet looked down into her tea. “Do you remember the James family?”

“Father made the man leave and let his wife and children stay until they could find help from her family.”

“Yes.”

“What have they to do with this?” Robert frowned.

“Do you remember why your father made the man leave?” Violet asked quietly.

Robert thought for a moment. “He learned that the man was abusing his wife. I still don’t see what this has to do with Carson and his grudge against me over Mrs. Hughes’ leaving.”

“Carson found _Miss_ Hughes.” Violet emphasized the change in title. “Do you know what sort of situation she was in when he found her?”

Robert studied his mother. “Mama, what are you getting at?”

“Do you remember some of the things your father said old man James was doing to his wife? Remember how he told you that a man should never treat a woman that way, especially his wife?”

“Mama? Are you saying that,” Robert started then stopped at the look his mother gave him. “No.”

“Yes. Carson paid her husband money that I gave him then took her from that place and brought her home. She’s been secluded at Crawley House ever since.”

“But Mama, I,”

Violet held up her hand. “No. You’ve never thought of the consequences of your actions. You never should have listened to Thomas Barrow, or at the very least, you should have waited until you were at Downton where you could confront Carson and Hughes together and ask them about the accusations. Instead, you made Edith confront Miss Hughes, and then never even bothered to question Carson. You were a fool, Robert, and a woman has lived in hell for this blessed family’s reputation. We’re all to blame. All of us, but you most of all.”

“So that’s why Carson was so angry.”

“Yes, Robert. He said that he’d let go of his anger toward you, but finding her broken and abused, renewed it. He’s loved her for years, Robert, but his life was serving us. Now he’s doing everything he can to protect and help Elsie Hughes out of his own sense of guilt for not speaking of his feelings sooner.”

“And Isobel? Why would she take her in? Doesn’t Miss Hughes have family?”

“Her sister was a part of the whole sorry mess. Carson brought Miss Hughes to the only people he knew could help. He made them promise not to speak of it and asked me not to.”

“Yet you have.”

“I promised him I would see to it that you left him alone and I saw no other way to do that than to make you see why he was angry.”

Robert nodded. “I’ll not speak to him if we happen upon each other in the village again.” Standing, he started out of the room then looked back at his mother. “I’m sorry, Mama. Will you tell them that?”

“I will, though it will do nothing to fix what’s happened.”

“I know that, but I truly am sorry for being such a fool.”


	21. Chapter 21

Beryl smiled as she helped Elsie transfer the biscuits they’d made to the cooling racks waiting on the counter. “You’re quite good at this, Elsie. Why did I not know you could bake?”

Elsie shrugged. “No need. I learned from my grandmother. Your shortbreads make me think of hers.”

“High compliment.” Beryl told her as they finished. “Now. Would you like to help me prepare dinner?”

Elsie looked at her fingers, wiggling them about as she remembered the times they’d been cracked with a cane, the time they’d been broken, for not preparing a meal just the way Connell liked it. “I,” she started, her voice breaking.

Beryl touched Elsie’s arm. “What is it? What happened?” she gently prodded.

“He broke my fingers the first time I didn’t make his toast just the way he liked it. After that, if I didn’t prepare something just right, he would take the cane to my fingers,” was Elsie’s quiet answer, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Will I ever be able to do things without him being there to haunt me?” she asked as she looked at her friend.

“Yes, Lass, some day.” Beryl smiled tenderly at her friend. “Some day, good memories will replace the bad. Maybe tonight we can make a few new memories to help you along.”

“Tonight?”

Beryl winked. “I happen to know a giant of a man that loves roast and potatoes. Think of the smile on his face when he learns that it was his favorite Scottish lass that prepared the meal.”

Elsie bit her bottom lip. “You think so? What if I,”

Beryl shook her head and gently squeezed Elsie’s arm. “I’ll be right here, helping you. But, even if something were to go wrong and it didn’t turn out just right, Charles Carson would still be grateful. He loves you, Elsie. He’s nothing more than an overgrown teddy bear with you. Just good ol’ Charlie.”

Elsie smiled at that. “Teddy bear,” she whispered. “I don’t think he’d like that.”

Beryl laughed, “Probably not, especially the ‘stuffed’ part of it.”

“Not at all.”

“Now come on, Lass.   Let’s make you some new, good memories.”

“Beryl?”

“Yes, Lass?”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

Elsie looked down at her hands, her fingers flexing. “For being the sister I always wished I had. For taking care of me. For letting me talk when I need to.”

Beryl’s eyes watered as she hugged Elsie. “I don’t need any more thanks that to see a smile on your face, Elsie. I’m your friend, and I’ll be a sister too, if that’s what you want. I never had one, just brothers, I like the idea of a sister. And I’ll always listen, Elsie. I promised.”

 

~*~

 

Charles smiled at the little girl in his arms currently pulling at his nose. “Honk,” he made the noise, chuckling when the tot giggled.

Anna laughed delightedly as she watched her daughter with Charles. “I think little Elsie May likes Mr. Carson as much as Mrs. Hughes.”

Charles smiled sadly as he looked down at Anna. “Not Mrs. Hughes anymore, Anna. Just simply Elsie.”

John took his daughter when Charles handed her to him then looked up at the man. “You said that you would explain everything when we arrived. What’s happened?”

“Not here, Mr. Bates.”

“John. There’s no need for such formalities now, Mr. Carson.”

Charles nodded. “Then I’m just Charles.” He looked at Anna. “To both of you.”

Anna nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“Now, let’s gather your things and I’ll take you to my cottage. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve arranged for you to stay in my home. I don’t spend much time there, so you’ll have plenty of room. Mrs. Clarkson arranged for a crib for the baby to be brought and set up in my guest room.”

John looked at Anna and saw the same look of concern on her face as he knew was on his. Something had happened. This man was not the same formidable man he’d been the last time they’d seen him.

“Mrs. Clarkson?” Anna asked, choosing to ignore the questions she and John had until they were safely tucked up in Charles’ cottage.

“Ah, yes. I forgot, no one here to inform you of the goings on in the village.”

“Well, we do occasionally receive a letter from Mrs. Molesley, but it’s been at least three months since the last one.”

“She’s been quite busy as of late.” Charles informed her. “Mrs. Clarkson is Mrs. Crawley.”

“Oh.” Anna gasped, wide eyed. “When?”

Charles shook his head. “They married in secret and were hiding it for fear of what the family would say. Things happened that made them change their minds and it’s only recently that the truth has come out.” Stopping at a pristinely painted fence and gate, he looked back at the younger couple. “This is it.”

“It’s a lovely cottage, Mr.,” Anna started then stopped with a frown. “Charles.”

Charles chuckled slightly. “Thank you, Anna.”

John looked at the flowers, recognizing a few of them as ones he’d often seen in the former housekeeper’s sitting room. “Plant the flowers yourself?” he asked as they made their way up the path, pausing so Charles could unlock the door.

“With a bit of help from Joseph. It’s amazing how competent he is.”

John laughed, Elsie May giggling at her papa’s mirth. “Love of a good woman, Charles.”

“So I’ve seen.” Charles answered. “The bedrooms are upstairs. I’ll take your things up if you want to go through to the sitting room. It’s just there,” he pointed as he walked toward the stairs.

“Charles,” Anna called, smiling at herself for getting the name right. “Would you like for me to make tea?”

“I can do it, Anna. You’ve been traveling. Just rest. We’ll have a chat and a good cup of tea then I’ll take you to see Elsie. She’ll be very surprised.” Charles called down the stairs, hoping as he said the words that Elsie would be happy to see two of the people she’d cared about most at Downton.

He hadn’t told her they were coming, nor that they had named their daughter after her, hoping that seeing them and how happy there were would make her happy. It should be alright if he let Elsie May do the charming. He smiled at the thoughts of the dark haired, blue eyed tot. She was a perfect mix of her parents, and a happy little thing. She didn’t seemed to be bothered by his size, which was a surprise as most children were frightened seeing him the first time.

Placing John and Anna’s things in the guest room, Charles sighed as he looked out the window at the tree.

He didn’t want to tell them the truth. It would hurt Anna and anger John, but they had to know. He couldn’t let them go to see Elsie without knowing that she wasn’t the same anymore. Her white hair alone would be enough to startle them, never mind the timid way in which she reacted to anyone these days.

Taking a deep breath, he tugged down his waistcoat and stood up straight, shoulders back, as he made his way downstairs to his waiting guests.

The stop in the kitchen to fix their tea would provide him with enough of a distraction to gather his thoughts even more.


	22. Chapter 22

Elsie was startled to see the tot standing in the dinning room as she brought in the dishes to set the table. Setting the dishes down, she moved to where the little girl was and knelt down.

“Hello, wee lassie,” she whispered.

“Hewo.”

“What’s your name, lassie?”

“Me Elwsie May.”

“Oh? I’m Elsie, too.” Elsie winked. “What are you doing here, Lassie? How did you get in the house?” she asked as she stood up, picking the tot up when she lifted her arms. Settling her on her hip, she smiled when the little girl stared at her.

“You eyes is bwue. Elwsie May’s bwue.”

“Yes, Lassie, they are. Now, can you tell Elsie how you got here?”

“Charwie.” Elsie May pointed.

Elsie looked up and saw Charles standing inside the dinning room. “Charles? Who is she?”

“She’s your namesake, Elsie.”

“My namesake?” Elsie whispered, startling a bit when Elsie May’s tiny hand touched her cheek.

“Easy, Lass.” Charles soothed as he moved closer to her, resting his hand on her arm. “This is Elsie May Bates. John and Anna have come to visit.”

Elsie’s eyes widened. “Oh, Charlie, no. No,” she shook her head, handing Elsie May to him. “No. Anna. No.”

Charles watched Elsie as she backed away then turned and rushed into the kitchen. Looking down at the tot in his arms, he sighed, “I don’t think that went very well, Elsie May.”

John and Anna came into the room, both looking upset.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be here, Charles.”

“No. I just should have prepared her better. I thought she would be happy to see Anna.”

Anna bit her lip. “I don’t think it was that,” she whispered.

John gently nudged her. “Go on. I’ll explain.”

Anna nodded and rushed through toward the kitchen, heart hammering in her chest.

“John? What will you explain?” Charles asked as he turned to look at the younger man and hand his daughter to him.

John looked at Elsie May, her eyes filled with tears, little mouth trembling. “What is it?”

“Poppy?”

“Yes?”

“I make Elwsie ‘ky?”

John patted the tot on the back then reached up and wiped at her tears. “No. It wasn’t you.” Placing her on the floor, John smiled at her. “Why don’t you go through there and find Dolly? I bet she’s awfully lonely.”

“Yes, Poppy.”

John stood up and watched his daughter make her way to the sitting room then turned back to Charles. “Remember Dame Nellie Melba’s concert at Downton?”

“I do.”

“Remember Lord Gillingham’s valet, Green?”

“I do, but what has one to do with the other?”

“Remember Anna’s fall?”

“I do. We were all worried about her. But again, what has one to do with the other?”

“She didn’t fall, Charles.” John’s voice was low, his gaze fixed on his shoes. “Green followed her down when she went to get a powder for her headache. He,”

“No. Stop.” Charles grasped John’s shoulder. “Elsie knows?”

“She found Anna.”

“Dear god.” Charles breathed. “If I’d known, I,”

“No. It isn’t your fault. Anna will make her see it’s alright.” John looked up at Charles. “Anna understands some of what Elsie’s been through. She can help more than any of us if Elsie will let her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I told you about Elsie?”

“Anna doesn’t like speaking of it, Charles, but we were wrong not to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” Charles heard Elsie May calling for John. “I believe you’re being paged, _Poppy_.”

John smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know where she got that from.”

“I believe I heard another child call her father that when she was that small.”

“Who?”

“Lady Sybil.” Charles answered, his voice filled with a wistful tone.

John smiled sadly at the thought of the lost lady. “She always was a rebel,” he whispered before making his way to his daughter.

Charles watched the man go then turned back to look at the table. He felt rather useless at the moment, maybe setting the table would help steady him.

 

~*~

 

Anna found Elsie held tightly in Beryl’s arms, the older woman gently rocking back and forth, whispering soothing words of reassurance.

Beryl smiled at Anna. “Anna’s here, Elsie. I think you need to let her see you’re okay.”

Elsie moved away from Beryl, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “I,” she started but stopped when she felt a hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry. We should have told Mr. Carson the truth about me so he would know to prepare you.” Anna whispered. “I promise I’m okay. It’s you we have to worry about now.”

Beryl squeezed Elsie’s arm. “I’m going to go out and see about Charles. I’m sure he’s upset with himself for upsetting you.”

“He,”

“He didn’t know the truth about me.” Anna answered for Elsie. “I’m sure he does now.”

Beryl sighed as she studied the young woman. “You, Anna? Oh Lass. I’m sorry,” she whispered, patting Anna on the arm as she made her way out to check on Charles. “Take care of her, Anna.”

“I will.” Anna assured.

Elsie looked up at Anna. “You shouldn’t have to be reminded.”

“I can be here for you to talk to. I understand.”

“Oh Anna. No.” Elsie shook her head. “I can’t.”

“When you can, I can listen.” Anna smiled. “For now, can you forgive us for surprising you? I know a little girl that was very excited to meet the person we’ve told her could be her grandma.”

“Grandma? Me?”

Anna smiled. “Yes. You were always more of a mother to me than my own. Elsie May needs a grandmother. Who better than the woman she’s named for?”

Elsie smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

“Come on then. Let’s go assure everyone that you’re okay.”

“I’m afraid I may have upset the wee lassie.”

“Probably, but she’ll be alright.”

“Let me just check our dinner. I can’t,” she bit her lip. “I can’t let it ruin.”

Anna heard the tremble in Elsie’s voice, saw the way her fingers flexed, and wondered what her husband had done to her when she’d ruined his dinner. It broke her heart to see her mother figure so broken, but she made up her mind to do everything she could to help while she was here.


	23. Chapter 23

“Dinner was wonderful. My favorite.” Charles murmured as he wiped his mouth with his napkin then patted his stomach.

“Elsie did most of the work.” Beryl smiled at her friend, a knowing look in her eyes.

“You’re a wonderful cook, Elsie. I didn’t know you knew how.” Charles said, genuinely surprised.

Elsie blushed and shrugged her shoulders. “I grew up on a farm. Meat and potatoes were a staple. Easy to fix and filling. Ma taught me as soon as I was old enough to handle a knife.”

“Well, if you keep fixing the meals, I won’t be able to walk.” Charles winked at her.

“Charwie!” Elsie May giggled when Charles blew out his cheeks.

Charles waggled his eyebrows and ruffled his hair, smiling when Elsie May giggled and clapped her hands. Standing, he swept the tot up and swung her about, making faces at her as she giggled.

“Charwie! Charwie!” Elsie May squealed as he brought her back down, resting her on his arm.

Elsie watched Charles with the tot, her mouth turning up in a smile as she watched him being Charlie. A laugh bubbled up out of her when Elsie May reached up and tweaked Charles’ nose, eliciting a honking noise from him and a squeal of delight from the tot.

And then it was quiet, all eyes glued to Elsie.

Elsie blinked in surprise when she realized it had suddenly quieted and that her friends were all staring at her. “What?”

Beryl’s eyes were filled with tears, a watery smile on her lips.

Charles’ dark eyes were glistening as he held Elsie May close. “You laughed, Elsie.”

“I,”

Beryl nodded. “You laughed, Elsie. You laughed,” her voice cracked on the last word and she wiped at her eyes with the napkin.

“I did?”

Charles, having handed Elsie May to her mother, moved to where Elsie sat and knelt down in front of her. “Yes, Lass, and it was music to my ears,” he whispered as he gently placed his hand over hers. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and twirl her around as he hugged her to him, but he refrained, too afraid of frightening her.

Anna smiled at Elsie May when she wiggled to get down. “What is it?”

“Elwsie waughed. Give her hug.”

Anna let the tot down and watched as she worked her way in between Charles and Elsie. Covering her mouth to hide her snort of laughter when Elsie May patted Charles’ cheek and told him, “Move, Charwie,” she looked at John. “We really need to work on her manners.”

John hid his own chuckle as he watched Charles help Elsie May up into Elsie’s lap. “I don’t think they noticed.”

 

~*~

 

Elsie sat staring into the fire, listening to the sound of Isobel’s muttering as she tried to knit. She didn’t know why the woman even tried because all she seemed to do was mutter and growl and get her fingers tangled in the yarn.

Isobel let out an expletive as she flung the yarn and needles to the floor. “Ugh!”

Elsie gasped then looked at her friend with a raised eyebrow. “Does your husband know that you know such language?” she asked, a tiny smirk playing on her lips.

Isobel cocked her head and studied Elsie. “Something happen tonight, Elsie?”

“Other than your language?”

Isobel frowned, her twinkling eyes giving her away. “Too many years spent around soldiers.”

“Hmm.” Elsie hummed.

“That isn’t what I meant, Elsie, and you know it. Now, what happened? Something’s changed.”

Elsie looked back into the fire. “I laughed,” she finally admitted.

Isobel, having just picked up her yarn and needles, dropped them again as she sat forward. “You laughed? Oh Elsie,” she breathed, knowing what a huge step forward such a small thing was. The woman had barely begun to smile again, a smirk every now and then, but to laugh? It was wonderful!

“Charles surprised me with some visitors, which didn’t go very well.”

“Who?”

“The Bates. I met their wee lassie first.”

“Your namesake.”

Elsie nodded. “I didn’t think, I just picked her up and asked her how she’d gotten in the house. She pointed to Charles and then he told me who she was. I didn’t react well to the news.”

“But why, Elsie?”

“I,” Elsie started then stopped, she didn’t want to tell Isobel Anna’s secret. “I didn’t want her to see me like this.”

“Elsie, there is nothing wrong with the way you look.”

Elsie reached up and touched her hair. “Isn’t there?”

“Does your hair bother you? If it does, I’m sure,”

“It reminds me, but it bothers Charlie,” she whispered.

“Do you want me to take you to London to have it fixed?”

Elsie shook her head. “Oh no. I just,” she sighed. “I need to work through it.”

“And we’ll help you just like we’ve been doing.” Isobel smiled at her friend. “Now, tell me what made you laugh.”

Elsie smiled as she remembered. “Elsie May tugged on Charles’ nose and he made a honking noise.”

Isobel shook her head and laughed, “Well no wonder you laughed. I’d have loved to see that.”

“He’s very good with children, always has been.”

“I’ve heard stories from the girls and I watched him with Sybie and George.”

“He was being Charlie tonight instead of Charles. Swinging Elsie May about and making her squeal. He even ruffled his hair and waggled his eyebrows at her. She’s a lovely wee thing, very happy.”

“It was good for you. I think, if you’re up to it, I should invite Edith here with Marigold. I know Edith would like to see for herself that you’re safe, and I’m sure she would like Marigold to get to know you.”

“I think one wee lassie at a time is all I can take.” Elsie sighed and then shook her head when Isobel got her fingers tangled in the yarn again. “For goodness sake,” she breathed as she moved to sit beside Isobel. “Let me help.”

Isobel, flung her hands up and down, untangling them from the yarn once more and dropping it and the needles into Elsie’s lap. “You can do it. I give up. I’ll stick to my needle point.”

Elsie held up the item then looked at Isobel. “What is it you’re trying to make?”

Isobel shrugged. “A scarf?”

“Oh my.”


	24. Chapter 24

Charles heard Anna’s muffled crying from upstairs and hung his head, rubbing his hands over his face. If he’d only known.

If someone had just told him the truth, he wouldn’t have asked Anna and her family to come.

She’d been so very sure and calm at dinner.

He shook his head.

She’d learned far too well from Elsie how to hide things from those around her.

Or maybe it was just him?

He always seemed to be blind.

He hated that he hadn’t been told the truth about Anna. It angered him if he were truthful with himself. But – after seeing Elsie and the hell she was going through – he understood why.

And now that Elsie herself had gone through hell and then some, there was no way he would ever confront her for not trusting him to help her keep the secret.

What a mess it all seemed to be.

As he realized that Anna’s cries had stopped, or at least grown quiet enough that he could no longer hear them, he sat back on the settee and reached out for the glass of whiskey he’d sat on the small table that held his lamp. Rolling it back and forth in his fingers, he thought back to a book Elsie had insisted he should read, even though it wasn’t his usual genre.

_“You must read it, Mr. Carson.”_

_Charles looked down at her shining eyes and realized there was no use in arguing. He was going to read this book. “Fine then, Mrs. Hughes. When I finish the book I am currently reading, I shall read The Time Machine. H. G. Wells you say?”_

_She nodded. “Yes, and there’s no need to borrow it from his Lordship’s library. I have a copy of my own that you may borrow.”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind.”_

He’d read the book, and while he’d found it as fanciful and ridiculous as he’d thought he would, he now wished that the time machine Mr. Wells had written about from his imagination were a real and factual thing.

Then he could go back and change things.

Go back and change so many things.

 _So many_.

 

~*~

 

“Shh.” John soothed as he held Anna close, his hand rubbing comforting circles on her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she snuggled closer.

“No need to be sorry. Even if we’d told him the truth, you and I both know that you still would have wanted to see her.”

Anna nodded. “She needs me.”

“Yes, she does. She has people already helping her, but you can help in ways they can’t. And I believe our wee lassie,” John mimicked Elsie making Anna chuckle. “Elsie May will help in ways none of us can because she’s small and helpless and gives Elsie someone to protect and watch over.”

“And someone to make her laugh.”

John chuckled a bit at that. “Yes. Especially if she’s around _Charwie_.”

“It’s very sweet watching him with her. I never knew he was such a softie.”

“But Elsie did. She saw what none of the rest of us ever did.”

Anna sighed as she relaxed in John’s embrace. “I’m going to have nightmares,” she whispered after a few moments.

“And I’ll be here to wake you just like always.”

“I love you, Mr. Bates.”

“And I’m so very lucky that you do, Mrs. Bates.”

 

~*~

 

Charles looked at the empty glass in his hand and shook his head. He’d had two glasses of whiskey, something he never did. He knew that drinking wasn’t going to help, but he also knew he needed something to numb his senses a bit.

Sighing as he stood up, he went to the kitchen to wash his glass then made his way to the door, lifting his hat and coat from their pegs. Slipping outside, he used his key to lock back up, not wanting to leave the sleeping family unprotected against unwanted visitors.

He’d told them the truth when he’d said he didn’t spend much time at his cottage, though he hadn’t told them where he spent his time. He didn’t think they’d understand his need to just wander aimlessly at night when no one was about. He also didn’t want anyone to know that he often found himself sitting in Richard Clarkson’s office at the hospital on the nights he knew the man was there.

Tonight was one of those nights and his feet took him down the familiar path that led him to the hospital.

It was quiet, not many patients, though he knew there was one that the doctor was worried about since he and Isobel had spent much of their evening here. He knew from Isobel that the birth they’d gone out to attend to hadn’t gone well and that the mother was now lying here, close to death.

Charles felt the old familiar ache as he thought of the last time a woman had lost her life bringing a life into the world. Lady Sybil had been young and vibrant, a beautiful soul that was snuffed out by snobbery.

Lifting his hand, he knocked on the partially open door then walked in when he heard the soft, “Come in.”

Richard looked up from his paperwork. “Hello, Charles. I was expecting you,” he said as he lifted a pot and poured tea into the cup sitting on the opposite side of his desk. “Isobel called. She told me to tell you that Elsie is settled for the night.”

Charles, having took off his coat and hat and placing them over the arm of a chair, sat down in the empty one and lifted the cup to his lips. “I upset her,” he whispered.

“The surprise?”

Charles nodded.

“But all of us thought it would be good for her to see Anna and the lassie.”

“I didn’t know all of the truth.”

“Charles, you aren’t making sense. What truth?” Richard asked as he frowned at his visitor.

“I didn’t know. Dear god, Anna,” he breathed.

Richard’s mind spun as he slowly pieced together the bits of Charles’ words that had been left out. “Anna? Dear god, when?”

Charles hung his head. “The night of Dame Nellie Melba’s concert.”

Richard uttered a Gaelic curse then scrubbed a hand over his face. “No wonder Elsie asked me for a salve. She said that one of the young maids had cut herself, but it wasn’t for a young maid.”

“She knew, Richard. She knew and didn’t tell me. If only I’d known the truth.”

“And you’re angry at her and feeling guilty because of it.”

“Why wouldn’t she have told me? I could have kept that bastard out of my house.”

“But could you have without hurting Anna?”

Charles sighed and took another sip of his tea. “I would have tried, but no, I couldn’t have.”

“So you have your answer. Elsie was probably sworn to secrecy by Anna, and you know that Elsie would do anything for any of her girls, especially Anna.”

Charles nodded. “I do. That doesn’t stop me from feeling,”

“Guilty. But Charles, is the guilt for that or is it for Elsie?”

Charles looked up at Richard. “I,” he started the looked back down into his lap. “I was a fool.”

“I think, Charles, you’ll find that you aren’t the only one that feels that way.”


	25. Chapter 25

“How is she doing?” Violet asked Isobel as they sat sipping tea in the Dower House sitting room.

Isobel smiled as she placed her cup back in its saucer. “She’s doing much better than she was even a few days ago. Once she got over the upset of Anna’s visit, she’s enjoyed having her and Elsie May about. I must admit, the little girl is a bright spot in my day as well. She’s a happy tot and loves Elsie.”

“Why would she be upset at seeing Anna?”

Isobel had been told by Richard just why Elsie had been upset, and didn’t feel it was her place to tell Violet, so she went with, “Because she cares for Anna and didn’t want her to see her this way,” instead of the truth.

“Carson seems to be a bit,” Violet frowned, not sure of the word she was looking for.

“Guilty, though he shouldn’t feel that way.” Isobel supplied.

Violet looked down into her tea. “Yes, well, several of us feel that way,” she admitted quietly.

Isobel tilted her head and studied her cousin. “Surely you don’t think any of this is your fault? You had nothing to do with the mess.”

Violet raised her head, an eyebrow arched as she stared across at Isobel. “Didn’t I? I helped raise Robert to be the man he is, the man that only thinks of his family and no one else. I also seemed to raise a fool. He’s too much like his father at times.”

“Violet, you can’t possible take any blame in this. Robert’s being a fool,” Isobel shrugged. “As mothers we can only take so much responsibility for the actions of our children. Robert is old enough that his actions are his own, and no one but he himself is responsible for them. He _was_ a massive fool for listening to Thomas Barrow and letting the man manipulate him. Thomas wanted Mr. Carson’s position, everyone in the house could see that it seems, everyone but Robert. Matthew even saw it, and he hadn’t been in the house that long.”

“But,”

Isobel shook her head. “No. If you had been there when Thomas made his accusations, if you had sat there and said nothing, then I would blame you as would Mr. Carson. You weren’t, you knew nothing of it until it was too late.”

Violet sighed, “You’re being far too kind.”

“I’m only stating the truth.” Isobel shrugged. “Besides, you were the one that took care of the ungrateful,” she stopped and shook her head, unwilling to use the only word that came to mind.

Violet raised an eyebrow and gave her cousin a knowing look. “You’ve spent too many years among men. You’ve picked up their filthy habits.”

Isobel smirked. “Says the woman who actually said the word out loud.”

Violet huffed and looked down to inspect her nails as if she were bored. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh hum.” Isobel murmured, her eyes twinkling.

 

~*~

 

“Elsie, would you like to go for a walk?” Charles asked as he watched her fussing with her hair.

Elsie bit her lip as she stopped fussing and looked up at him. “Through the village?” she asked quietly.

“Wherever you feel comfortable. We could simply walk around the garden if that’s all you think you can handle.” He smiled at her then chuckled a bit when she scowled at her hair again. “Why are you frowning so?”

Elsie looked up at him, and squinted as she studied his face. “Charles Carson, are you laughing at me?”

Charles shook his head, his face a mask of innocence. “Absolutely not.”

Narrowing her eyes even more, she shook her brush at him. “You’re a terrible liar, Charles Carson.”

Charles grinned which earned him a hard glare. He shrugged. He couldn’t help it. This was some of his Elsie coming back.

“What are you grinning like a, like a,” she stopped and scowled then chucked her brush at him when he laughed. “Charles Carson!”

Charles burst out laughing, his face nearly split with the wide grin that turned up his mouth. Picking up her brush off the settee where it had landed, he handed it back to her. “Do it again,” he whispered.

Elsie frowned. “You want me to throw my brush at you again? Have you gone daft, Charles?”

Charles shook his head then sat on the foot stool in front of her chair. “No, Elsie. Not daft, just very happy.”

“You’re happy because I threw my brush at you? You aren’t making sense, Charles.”

Looking down, he gently covered her hand with his. “I am happy because it means my fiery Scottish lass is coming back to me.”

Elsie felt her eyes well with tears as she turned her hand over and clasped his. “Oh Charles,” she whispered.

Charles looked up and shook his head. “Don’t cry, Lass.”

“I can’t help it. I’m so very grateful to you, to everyone that has helped me. You’ve done so much, all of you. I never thought I would see the day that Charles Carson would be happy to have me scowling at him.”

Charles laughed at that. “I did often find myself trying to escape that scowl. I think this might be the first time you’ve thrown something at me, though.”

Elsie shook her head. “Don’t you remember the tea cup?”

Charles frowned as he thought back over their years together then he grinned. “Oh yes. Now I remember.”

_“How dare you!” Elsie yelled as she balled her hands into fists._

_Charles raised an eyebrow as he stared down at her. “I dare because I am the butler of this house.”_

_Elsie’s eyes narrowed, which should have told Charles to turn tail and run, except it didn’t. The next thing he knew a tea cup was whizzing passed his ear, shattering on the door behind him._

_“Elsie Hughes!”_

_“That does happen to be my name!” Elsie shouted back and picked up the saucer. “Get out or so help me,”_

_Charles wasn’t sure where that little saucer was going to land so he turned and hurried out of her sitting room, the sound of shattering glass blending with the closing of the door._

“What in the world were we fitting so fiercely about?” Charles asked.

Elsie shook her head. “I don’t remember. I only remember how mortified I was with myself after I calmed down. Do you remember dinner that evening?”

“The apple tart?”

Elsie nodded. “I made sure Beryl fixed that especially for you as a way to make up for what I’d done.”

“Well this time you can make it up to me by going for a walk.” He winked at her when she smiled. “That smile is beautiful, Lass. Beautiful just as you are.”

“Oh Charlie,” she blushed. “I’m not.”

Charles sighed and tenderly squeezed her hand. “Yes, Lass. To these eyes you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“Oh Charlie.”


	26. Chapter 26

Elsie nuzzled her nose into the sweet smelling hair of the child cuddled against her, her warm breath fanning against her neck as Elsie May slept peaceful at last. The lass had been upset when she’d learned that she was going to have to go home and leave her new found grandma behind. She had cried and sobbed into Elsie’s neck until she’d finally fallen asleep, her little hand clutching at Elsie’s dress.

Elsie had told Anna and John to go along and have the afternoon to themselves, that she would watch over the sleeping tot. So here she sat, in the most comfortable chair in the sitting room of Crawley House, a fire in the hearth keeping her warm, listening to the sweet breaths of the lassie that called her Grandma and had helped her come back to herself just that much more through her unconditional love and happy personality.

Elsie’s eyes closed as she thought back to the walk she’d went on that morning with Charles. He’d been wonderful, never pushing her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with even though it meant making circles around the garden. As they walked, she’d finally gotten up the nerve to ask him about something that Beryl had said to her.

_“Charlie?”_

_“Yes, Lass?” Charles answered, patting her hand as he led her on another round of the garden._

_“Beryl told me,” she bit her lip._

_“Told you what, Elsie?” Charles asked as he stopped and looked down at her, waiting patiently for her to continue._

_Elsie looked up at him, his height blocking out the morning sun. Staring at him a moment, she thought about what a handsome man he was, how solid and sure he was, how his very presence intimidated, even frightened some, but had always meant safety and home to her. Even after the hell she’d been through, she still felt incredibly safe with him. “She told me you love me,” she finally managed._

_Charles smiled as he reached up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “She was telling you the truth. I do love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I care to admit because if I admit how long, then I admit what kind of fool I was. And I,” he paused and looked away. “If I’d only told you sooner. If I’d simply stopped being afraid of my emotions, I,” his voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Elsie. So very sorry.”_

_“Shh, Charlie.” Elsie murmured as she squeezed his hands. “I could have told you how I felt about you instead of keeping it to myself and it might have given you the courage to tell me. I didn’t, though, because I kept hoping you’d see that I loved you. Love you. I do, you know,” she admitted quietly._

_“I don’t know why you do, or how you still could, but I’m glad. Now, come on. I’ve had you out long enough in this cool weather.”_

_Elsie smiled as she tucked her arm through his again, walking closely beside him as they made their way back to the house. Yes, he was safety, warmth, home, but now she had admitted out loud the other thing he had always been to her - love. How easy it had been to tell him. “I was afraid of that even though deep down I knew it was still there.”_

_“It’s wonderful hearing you talk so much and so openly to me. I see so much of my Elsie coming back. I was so afraid we’d lost you.”_

_Elsie sighed as they stepped back inside. “Just keep being patient with me.”_

_“I’ll do whatever you need.”_

_“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Being my friend, taking care of me.”_

She still found it hard to believe how easily she’d managed to tell him she loved him. She’d been ignoring that feeling any time it cropped up. She wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready for anything that went along with love.

Charles’ touch was never anything more than gentle and friendly, never wanting anything more that to comfort her. The thoughts of anyone touching her and wanting something from her physically, she shuddered at the thought. Even though Charles was safe, and she knew he would never take or demand anything from her – she shook her head. It was too much.

“Grammy.” Elsie May murmured as she snuggled closer.

“Shh, Lassie. It’s alright. I’m right here.” Elsie assured her.

“You is sad.”

“Just a little. I’m going to miss you.”

Elsie May sat up and looked at Elsie, her lips quivering. “I hafta go?”

“Oh yes, Lassie. You must go home with your mummy and poppy. They’d miss you terribly.”

“You miss me.”

“I will, Lassie, very much. But remember what your poppy said?”

Elsie bit her lip and nodded. “Tewe,” she frowned. “Tewe,” she tried again then scowled.

“Telephone.” Elsie supplied with a chuckle. “Yes. That’s right. So you see, even though you’ll be there and I’ll be here, you can still talk to me.”

“No hugs.”

“I’ll send you hugs in my letters to your mummy.”

Elsie May frowned. “Hugs in wetters?”

Elsie laughed and hugged the tot close. “Oh yes. Lots of hugs and even some kisses.”

“Charwie too?”

“I’m sure he’ll send some along.”

Yawning, Elsie May settled back against Elsie in her favorite spot. “Story?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Princess.”

Elsie smiled as she caressed a hand over the tot’s head. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Sybil. She grew tired of always having to wear heavy dresses with layers and layers of skirts. She’d been reading books about lands very far away and saw pictures of how the young women dressed and decided that she too would dress that way. She had to be careful not to let her family know what she was doing. The day finally came that her new wardrobe was ready. She gleefully put it on and spun about in her room, happy to be free of the confines of her other clothes. Slipping her feet into the dainty shoes that went with the outfit, she rushed downstairs to meet her family, happy and smiling until they all gasped in surprise. Her smile faded as everyone began to scold her, and her mother sent her back upstairs to change into something proper. She didn’t realize that there was someone watching her, someone that thought she looked beautiful.”

“Prince?”

“No, not a prince. He was only a lowly servant, but he loved her, and she grew to love him. Soon, they made plans to run away because her family forbade her to see him. Her love for the young man had given her courage to stand up to her family and soon, even though they had been found and their marriage halted, she’d made her family see that he was a good man and that she loved him. The family finally allowed her to marry him and they,”

“Wived,”

“Happily ever after.” Elsie finished. “Yes. Most happy.”

“Grammy?”

“Yes, Lassie?”

“I wove you.”

“Oh Lassie.” Elsie whispered as she kissed the tot’s head. “I love you, too.”


	27. Chapter 27

Charles stared out across the water, his need for peace strong but elusive. He knew that he needed to finally broach the subject of marriage with Elsie since Richard had informed him that he and Isobel would be going to Scotland for a much needed holiday and none of them thought it was a good idea to leave Elsie alone. He’d thought of asking Beryl if Elsie could stay with her, but then he remembered that she and Daisy were going on a small holiday to meet the family of Daisy’s beau.

He sighed.

He wasn’t sure the subject of marriage would go over well with Elsie, it may be something that she would never want to think of much less be asked. Though, asking this time would be a definite change of pace from the last go. And he most assuredly wouldn’t be taking Elsie as his property. Nor would he be requiring anything of her but what she was willing to give.

“Charlie?”

Charles was startled to hear her voice behind him and turned around. “Elsie? Lass, what in the world are you doing out here by yourself?”

“I didn’t come by myself. Richard walked me here.”

“But, Elsie, you…” he started then stopped when Elsie reached out and squeezed his hand.

“I did. I have to start going out at some point, Charlie.”

Charles smiled and lifted her hand, kissing the back of it while holding her gaze.

Elsie shivered at the contact, her breath catching as she tried to keep herself calm. No one had kissed her, at least not in that manner. The kisses she’d received had been more like angry tears at her flesh. But not her Charlie, never her Charlie. He couldn’t hurt her no matter if his life were on the line. She knew that he would die before ever letting himself be used to hurt her.

“I’m sorry, Elsie. I shouldn’t have done that.” Charles told her quietly.

Elsie shook her head. “Don’t apologize, Charlie. It’s just that I was never kissed like that. All he did was,” she bit her lip and looked away.

“It’s alright, Lass.” Charles gently tugged her hand to get her to look back at him. “May I hold you?”

Elsie answered by stepping into his open arms, her head nestled on his chest. Sighing as she relaxed against him, she thought back to all those months ago when Charles had rescued her and brought her home. She’d come a long way since then, though she knew she still had a long way to go and that she would never truly be her old self again. “Charlie,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Yes, Lass?”

“What am I going to do when Richard and Isobel go on holiday?”

“That’s what I was thinking about when you found me.”

“Oh?”

“Uh hum.”

“And?”

“Well, I had thought of asking Beryl, but remembered she and Daisy were also going to be gone.”

“I could always stay,” she started but Charles interrupted.

“You are not staying by yourself. There’s always the Dower House.”

“Heavens!” Elsie huffed.

Charles chuckled a bit. “Yes, I didn’t think that would go over well. You would be too uncomfortable.”

“Most!”

“I suppose I could always take you to London and we could stay in a hotel.”

“Oh no, Charlie. I couldn’t possibly. Too many people and I don’t want you spending money on me.” Elsie argued then sighed, “I need to find a way to earn again. I have nothing and I can’t keep taking advantage.”

“There’s another option, Lass.” Charles held her a bit tighter.

“Charlie?” Elsie asked, feeling the change in his mood in the way his muscles tensed under her hands.

“You could stay with me as my companion. We would have to marry of course,” he felt her tense. “But I would ask nothing of you, Elsie. Nothing. The marriage would only be so that you could live with me without people thinking ill of you. I won’t have that. I won’t have them calling you names or turning up their noses at you. I won’t have you be fodder for their gossip. I won’t.”

Elsie bit her lip as she pulled away from Charles. “Charlie, I…I,” she stammered.

“I promise that you’ll not be my property, Elsie. No obeying. Nothing you don’t want.” Charles looked down at his shoes. “I only want to take care of you and protect you. No church, just the registrar. No rings. No changing your name. Just a certificate to prove that you have the right to live in my home and the right to my things. That’s all, Lass. And we’ll really be married. No trickery. I have two bedrooms. I’m a good cook and good at the cleaning too. You won’t have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. And maybe,” he paused to look up at her. “Maybe together we can think of something to help you earn some money if you don’t want to share mine.”

Elsie’s eyes were overflowing with tears. Marriage scared the hell out of her, but Charles had just gone through a list of everything he could possibly think of that could be a trigger for her and assured her that he’d expect nothing. Nothing at all but for her to let him give her a roof over her head, to take care of her, to protect her. He was even offering to help her earn her own money so that she wasn’t completely dependent on him if she didn’t want to be. She swallowed hard, her hands shaking as she moved back to him. “Maybe we could share the cooking and cleaning,” she whispered.

Charles looked at her, startled by her words. “Are you sure, Lass? Don’t agree if you really don’t want to. I will find another solution. I don’t want you to think I’m using this situation to force you to marry me. Although, I _will_ admit that I love you, and that I want to marry you, but I’d never,”

“Shh, Charlie. I know. I’m scared, and I can’t promise that I won’t be frightened even more but I know you won’t hurt me. Just keep being patient with me.”

“I don’t want to frighten you, Lass. It would break my heart if I did that. You,” he looked down at their hands. “I need to know a few more things, Elsie. If you don’t want to tell me more, then I understand, but I ask your permission to ask Richard for, for,” he stammered to a stop. This was horrifying, but he had to know everything so that he didn’t do anything to trigger Elsie’s fear.

“Oh Charlie, I,” she bit her lip, her arms going around herself. “I can’t talk about that. It’s,”

“Then let me ask Richard. Elsie, I only want to know so that I don’t do anything to make you afraid. That’s all. I’ve guessed at most of it, and Beryl has shared a few things with me so that I know to not say or do certain things. But living together, that will be different, and I just don’t want to do something that could trigger fear. I never want you to be afraid of me.”

Elsie closed her eyes and shuddered. “Ask Richard what you will and I will try to talk to you about other things. You can ask Beryl to tell you everything I’ve told her.” Opening her eyes and looking up at him, she reached out a hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For?” Charles asked as he took her hand.

“For being my Charlie. For being the man of honor and integrity I’ve always known you to be.”


	28. Chapter 28

Beryl held Elsie as she trembled. “What’s wrong, Lass?”

“I don’t know if I can do this. He knows what,” she bit her lip. “He knows what happened to me now, at least as much as Richard was able to tell and as much as I’ve told you.”

“And he still loves you. Nothing will ever change that, Elsie. Nothing. He will do everything he promised, and probably a little more. He has to know, Lass. If he does something that triggers a reaction and frightens you, makes you afraid of him, it would break his heart.”

“I just,” Elsie started then sat down on the edge of her bed, staring across at the pallet still carefully made in the corner. “Isobel has created a cocoon for me here. She and Richard have made sure I was safe here, and people have stayed away because of who they are. What,” she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Charles will create that same kind of cocoon around you, if you want it. He’ll bar the windows and doors if that’s what you want and need. I’m sure the man would find a way to build you a house underground if that’s what it took to make you happy and keep you safe. But, Lass,” Beryl gently titled Elsie’s head up. “I think you need to start going out among people again. Let others see you so that they can stop gossiping. The Dowager has done her best to quell as much of it as possible at Charles’ request, but even her formidable self can’t stop everyone. You need to start living outside of these four walls. Take more walks through the village like you did that day you walked with Richard to find Charles. I won’t suggest going to church, I think that’s probably too much, though I would suggest having someone talk to Rev. Travis so that he doesn’t bother you once you’ve moved into Charles’ cottage.”

“You’ll come and visit?”

“Once Daisy and I come back from our holiday, I’ll bring her along. She can tell you about her beau. He’s a rather charming fellow and loves the farm, which is good because I think he might actually be planning to ask her to marry him.”

“And what will happen to you?”

“I’ve been told if I even think of leaving, she’ll cream me with a pot.”

Elsie chuckled at that. “She’s really grown if she’s threatening you with one of your own threats.”

Beryl smiled. “She has. She asks after you every time I return home after visiting.”

Elsie sighed. “Maybe wait until I’ve settled better into my new home. I think I’m going to be a mess.” She stared at the pallet again.

“You’ll only have to call his name and he’ll come running to you, Lass.”

“Beryl?”

“Yes, Lass?”

“What do I wear? I haven’t much, just these few things that Isobel gave me.”

Beryl smiled. “Well, it just so happens that I thought of that.”

Elsie watched with a frown as Beryl left the room then came back again with a box. “Beryl, what,”

“Ah.” Beryl shushed her. “It’s my treat to my best friend. When you told me that you were going to marry Charles, I went to Mrs. Molesley and asked her to make you something. I might have even snuck her one of the dresses from your wardrobe.”

“You snuck one of my dresses?” Elsie shook her head then furrowed her brow. “Mrs. Molesley?” she asked.

Beryl chuckled as she nodded. “Did we forget to tell you about that?”

Elsie nodded. “I believe so.”

“Well, after old Mr. Molesley died, Joseph found himself with a home and gardens to tend to. He left service and was lost without his father, but Miss Baxter made sure to always check on him and he finally gathered up his courage to ask her to marry him. Joseph is really quite good with the flowers as long as the poor man remembers to wear gloves and sleeves.”

Elsie chuckled at that. “And she uses her dress making skills.”

“Yes. The ladies now can go to her instead of going all the way to Ripon or Thirsk. They’re doing well for themselves. It’s amazing the change in Molesley. Love of a good woman, I suppose.”

Elsie bit her lip as she pondered the comment. “I won’t do that for Charlie.”

“Elsie?”

“I won’t be good for Charlie. I’ll only,” she stopped when her voice caught, tears trailing wet tracks down her cheeks. “I can’t do this, Beryl. I can’t.”

Beryl sighed as she placed the box on the bed then sat down beside Elsie. Rubbing soothing circles on Elsie’s back, she used her free hand to squeeze Elsie’s fidgeting ones. “Just seeing you every day and knowing that you’re safe will be good for your Charlie. And you love him, yes?”

Elsie nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

“Then that’s enough, Lass. But, if you truly can’t bring yourself to marry, then I’ll go down and tell him and we’ll work something else out.”

Elsie shook her head. “No, don’t do that. I’m just scared, Beryl.”

“I know you are. Charles knows you are. He’ll understand if you truly can’t do this, Elsie.”

Taking a deep breath, Elsie turned to look at the box. “I’d best have a look, don’t you think?”

Beryl smiled and nodded as they stood and pulled the box to the edge. “I hope you like it.”

Elsie opened the box and pushed away the tissue, smiling as she lifted the dress out. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”

“Now, Isobel has asked me to ask you if you will let her help with your hair. And Charles asked me to give you this,” she reached into her pocket and pulled out a six pence. “He said that he knows this isn’t a traditional wedding, but he still wanted you to have the luck the six pence is said to bring.”

Elsie shook her head. “What shoes will I wear?”

A knock on the door sounded just before the door opened. “I believe I can help with that.” Isobel said as she poked her head in. “May I?”

“Yes. Come in.” Elsie said as she looked down at the objects in Isobel’s hand. “For me?”

“Yes.” Isobel nodded as she handed Elsie the shoes. “Beryl told me of the dress and I knew you didn’t have shoes to go with it, so I found a pair in Ripon.” She shrugged. “You need an extra pair anyway.”

Elsie smiled and shook her head. “You’re both being so very good to me.”

“You’re our friend, Elsie. I know this isn’t a traditional wedding, but I still think that a lady should have new things to make her feel special.”

“Thank you.” Elsie whispered, touched by the kindness of the lady who had taken her in and given her a home.

“Now, let’s get you ready.”

Elsie bit her lip as she looked at her two friends. “I’m still afraid.”

“I know.” Beryl squeezed her hand.

Isobel nodded. “Remember, you don’t have to do this. At any time, you tell us and we’ll stop. No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“But I do want to. I’m just frightened of leaving my cocoon.”


	29. Chapter 29

“They’re taking care of her, Charles.” Richard assured the man for what seemed like the tenth time in as many minutes.

“I know. I’m just worried for her. She’s afraid. I don’t want her to do this because she doesn’t have any other choice. I never want that for her again. I just want to take care of her, that’s all.”

“I know that, Charles. I’m sure Elsie knows it too, but she’s leaving the safety we’ve given her here for something new, it’s going to take a bit for her to be comfortable with the change. Beryl and Isobel both have assured us that they will tell her she doesn’t have to do this if she doesn’t want to. I would tell you that Isobel and I would cancel our holiday, but my sister has been ill and I promised I’d come for a visit.”

Charles sighed and sat down. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Charles. I understand. I would feel the same if it were Isobel.”

“I just don’t want to do anything to frighten Elsie or make her think I’m taking away her rights. I don’t want her to ever feel like she is my property and I’m afraid that this will do just that. I’ve already told her that I wouldn’t ask her to wear a ring. But what do I do about the people of the village when the see her? They’ll gossip because she’s living with me and we’ve had no wedding that they know of, and they’ll not see a ring. I just don’t want their nosiness and gossip to hurt her.” Scrubbing a hand over his face, he looked up at Richard. “If only I could build her a home underground where no one could touch her.”

“But she needs to get back into society, Charles. That is another part of her healing process. The gossip will die out once the nosey busybodies see Elsie out and about and not hidden away.”

“I know that Elsie needs to do that, but I also know I want to keep her hidden away from prying eyes and anyone that can hurt her. I only want to keep her safe. I failed so miserably before.”

“Charles, you can’t blame yourself. You had no idea that any of this would happen. If you had known and had stood by and let it happen, then I would blame you and so would anyone else that loves Elsie. But, you didn’t know. None of us did. Who would ever think that one’s own sister would do such a thing?”

“But I know Barrow. I should never have taken Elsie’s hand that day knowing that he was about.”

“You could also go back and blame Lord Grantham for never having gotten rid of the prick, but that isn’t going to help Elsie. What’s done is done. Now, you have to keep loving Elsie and giving her everything she wants or needs. If you keep helping her, you will help yourself.”

Hearing movement on the stairs, Charles stood and walked out into the hall, smiling as he watched Elsie follow Beryl and Isobel down the stairs. As she stopped in front of him, he reached out and gently took her hand. “Are you sure, Lass?”

Looking up into the eyes that never lied to her, Elsie took a deep breath. “I’m scared, but yes, I’m sure.”

Charles nodded. “You look beautiful, Elsie.”

“Thank Isobel and Beryl.” Elsie whispered as she looked away shyly.

Tenderly lifting her face back to his, Charles smiled down at her. “Don’t turn away, Lass. Are you ready to go?”

Squeezing his hand, Elsie nodded. “You are going to ride next to me, aren’t you?”

“I won’t leave your side, Elsie.”

Nodding, she let go of his hand so she could put on her hat and coat. Her trembling hands made it impossible for her to fasten her hat pin. Looking up when she felt a warm hand on hers, she found herself caught up in the love Charles felt for her and it steadied her nerves enough that she was able to finish. “Thank you,” she whispered as they lowered their hands.

“Don’t forget your gloves, Lass.” Charles told her with a smile.

Elsie wrinkled her nose at him even as she pulled on her gloves. He’d always been fussy about her gloves.

Charles shook his head and gently tapped her nose. “Don’t wrinkle that pretty little nose at me. It’s cold out.”

Beryl hid her snigger behind her hand, remembering the times in the past that Charles and Elsie had fussed over gloves. Though tapping her nose was a new thing.

Isobel smiled back at her husband as he helped her into her coat, his own smile greeting her. Charles was in fine form today, easily slipping into his role as Charlie the clown to take Elsie’s mind off her nerves. Though if Isobel was honest with herself, the tapping of Elsie’s nose was rather sweet. Maybe just maybe her friend would get through this day with a bit of happiness instead of all of the fear.

Elsie’s nose twitched. “Charlie,” she huffed. “Not my nose.”

Charles chuckled and grinned down at her as he held out his arm. “And why not your nose? Or are you trying to tell me I was wrong about it being a pretty little nose?” he asked as he led her out to the waiting car.

Elsie rolled her eyes up at him. “Maybe we should ask Richard if he knows a good eye doctor.”

Charles laughed at that. Helping her into the back seat, he carefully folded his tall frame in, scowling over at Elsie when she laughed at him as he pulled his hat from his head and began fussing to fix it. “I’ve just dented my best hat and the lady I love is laughing at me,” he grumbled though his twinkling eyes told her he wasn’t angry just playing along.

Elsie loved the man beside her even more in that moment than she thought she could ever love anyone. She had seen him riding in motors before and knew that he could easily fit without squashing his hat. He had done this just for her, to continue to help her with her nerves. Wrapping her arms around his, she let her head rest against his shoulder. “I love you, Charlie,” she whispered so only he could hear.

Charles patted her hands as he smiled and leaned over to whisper, “I love you, too, Lass.” He could feel that she’d calmed and looked down at his hat with a sigh. Smashing his best hat had been worth it.


	30. Chapter 30

Charles sat on his settee staring into the fire he’d built as soon as he’d returned home with his wife.

His wife.

But yet, not his wife.

He’d married her, but only on paper.

Her name hadn’t changed, something he’d made sure the registrar understood.

No ring adorned the fourth finger of her left hand, another thing he’d had to scowl at the registrar over.

And all of that had been after Elsie had panicked and ran out of the room, him going after her, easily catching up to her with his long legs.

His poor lass had been breathing hard and curled into herself in a dark corner of an abandoned hallway.

_“Elsie. Lass, it’s Charlie.”_

_“Charlie,” she whispered. “I, I’m sorry, I,”_

_“No, Lass. It’s alright,” he assured her as he gently approached her, his arms open, inviting her into his embrace._

_Staring at his arms a moment, Elsie finally moved and collapsed against him. “I’m so sorry. I just,” she stopped and took a shuddering breath. “The registrar,”_

_“I’ll deal with him if you still want to go through with this. If not, we’ll just go to a quiet out of the way tea shop and have ourselves a bit of a day out.”_

_Grasping his lapels, Elsie looked up at him. “No. I want to do this. I,” she bit her lip and rested her head back against his chest. “I think this is something I need to do for me, Charlie.”_

_“Then I’ll deal with the registrar. Come on. You can stand outside with our friends while I have a few words with the man.”_

_Elsie shook her head. “No, Charlie. Let’s just go back and get this over with.”_

_“Whatever you want, Lass.” Charles murmured as he held out his hand to her, smiling at her when she looked up at him. “Don’t be startled if I happen to growl at the man.”_

_Elsie smiled as she took his hand. “Thank you, Charlie. I really am sorry for panicking. I thought I was prepared.”_

_“It’s alright, Lass. Remember, you’ll not have to say anything you don’t want to.”_

The registrar, Charles was sure, was happy to see the backs of them as they walked out of his office, their license tucked safely in the inside pocket of Charles’ coat.

Elsie was upstairs napping, the day and its emotional turmoil having exhausted her. He had worried that she would wind up in the corner again, but so far he’d heard no movement which he hoped was a good sign that she was resting peacefully.

Pushing himself up, Charles decided he would go check to make sure Elsie was still alright. It was nearly time for dinner and he blessed Beryl once again for providing them with a few days worth of meals. The last thing he wanted to fuss with was making a meal. He could cook, he’d learned when he was a Cheerful Charlie, and he knew that Elsie could cook as he’d eaten a meal prepared by her. He also knew the fear that cooking could bring to her if something didn’t go right and it was the last thing he wanted for her. Adjusting to living with him was going to be enough for her to deal with for the time being.

 

~*~

 

Elsie turned her head when she heard movement at her door. “I’m awake, Charlie,” she whispered.

“Did you rest well, Lass?”

“I,” she sighed as she sat up, her eyes drawn to the corner of the room where a carefully made pallet had been prepared for her just in case. “Not very.”

Charles saw where she was looking and felt his heart ache. “You should have called, Lass. I would have held you if that’s what you needed or wanted.”

Looking up at Charles, Elsie gave him a watery smile. “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t scolding, just stating a fact. I’m here and I’m always going to be here. All you have to do is call out for me. That’s all. I’ll do whatever you need.”

Elsie nodded. “I’m sorry for not fixing dinner. I should have started by now.”

Charles shook his head and held out a hand. “No, Lass. That isn’t your job, not unless you want it to be.” Smiling down at her when she took his hand, he lifted his free hand and gently caressed her cheek. “Beryl has fixed us several days worth of food. After that is gone, we can cook together.”

Elsie smiled as she walked with him out of her room. “I would like that.”

“Good. Now, what would like to have tonight? Shepherd’s pie?”

“I’m not very hungry, but a little bit of that sounds fine.”

“Wine or tea?” Charles asked, doing his best not to frown that she didn’t seem to want to eat, knowing that she hadn’t had anything more than a cup of tea and a biscuit for her lunch.

“A small glass of wine, maybe?”

“If that is what you want. I have just the one. It’s your favorite.”

Elsie smiled as they stepped off the last stair and made their way to the kitchen. “You’re being too good to me, Charlie.”

“Never, Lass. I can never be good enough.”

“Oh no, Charlie.” Elsie tugged at his hand to stop him. “You’ve always been good enough, Charlie.”

Lifting her hand, Charles pressed a kiss to it then let go. “I’ll open the wine if you’ll get the glasses. They’re just there,” he pointed to them before turning to where he had his wine stored.

Elsie, having saw just where the glasses where, rolled her eyes and stood with her arms crossed as she waited for Charles to turn back around. “Charlie Carson,” she huffed.

Charles turned back to her, bottle of wine in mid-air. “What is it?”

Pointing over her shoulder at the cupboard where his glasses were, she frowned at him. “I’m little.”

Charles couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing causing Elsie to scowl at him and tap her foot. Shrugging helplessly, he continued to laugh as he moved to take down the glasses himself.

“Charlie! It isn’t that funny!”

Coughing to calm himself, Charles sat the wine and glasses down on the counter then turned and smiled at her. “I’m sorry, Lass, but you saying I’m little just struck me as funny. It isn’t something I thought I’d ever hear you say, though I’ll admit I’ve thought it over the years.”

“You’ve thought I was little?”

“Well, not so much little as,” he shrugged. “short.”

Elsie frowned at him then huffed. “Oh!” but her blue eyes were twinkling, the mirth laced with thanks for making her happy.

“Well, Lass, compared to me, _most_ people are short.”

Elsie laughed at that. “Big ol’ bear,” she murmured.

“Rawr.” Charles half roared at her.

Elsie laughed at that and shook her head. “Oh Charlie. Thank you.”

Charles smiled, happy to hear that laugh and see the blue of her eyes shining. “You did call me a bear. That is what bears do, isn’t it?”

Elsie nodded. “But you’re more of a teddy bear.”

Charles frowned at that. “A teddy bear? I’m not fluff and stuff.”

Elsie smiled and nodded. “With me you are,” she told him quietly, shyly looking down at her hands.

Reaching out, Charles lifted her face to look up at him. “I suppose I am at that.”


	31. Chapter 31

Over the last month, Charlie had disappeared back into Charles even as Elsie had slowly adjusted to living with a man again, trying desperately to find herself. Her heart ached as she watched Charles, wishing he would talk to her, wondering what she’d done wrong.

She hadn’t ventured out to the village on her own so far, but decided that today was the day she would try. She needed a few things and Charles was busy outside, preparing the flower beds for the coming winter she supposed.

“Charli,” Elsie started then stopped and tried again. “Charles,” she called to get his attention.

Charles stood up and turned to look at Elsie, frowning when he noticed her dressed to go out. “Did I forget we were going somewhere?” he asked as he walked toward her.

“No. I just need a few things. I’m only bothering you to let you know that I’ll be out. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t take me long to change and go with you or for you.”

Elsie shook her head. “No. It’s time I try this. You’re busy.”

“Fine then. Where are you going? I only want to know so that if you’re gone too long I’ll know where to look. Only because I’ll worry,” he added after seeing the look on her face.

Elsie shrugged. “I’m only going to post a letter to Sean and then to buy some odds and ends we need for the kitchen.”

“Alright. Don’t forget your gloves.”

Elsie shook her head and turned back to the house, grabbing her basket from the table as she made her way to the front door. The reminder of her gloves rang in her ears and she reached into her pockets to pull the items out. They were new, ones that Charles had bought her when he’d taken her to shop for a new coat and everything she would need to stay warm this winter. That had been a long and trying day for her, though having Beryl along had helped, and the fact that he’d taken her to Thirsk where no one knew her had also helped her with her anxiety about being around so many people.

As she walked along the path into the village, her thoughts were filled with Charles and how he was still taking such good care of her, though he wasn’t silly anymore to make her laugh. She still found love in his eyes when she looked into them, but the openness was gone, and she didn’t know why. Had she done something? She’d done her best to take care of him in the only ways she knew. She did his laundry and mending, much to his protests that she didn’t have to do that. She’d assured him that she wanted to do it, that she knew he didn’t expect her to, that it was her way of saying thank you when words weren’t enough.

But still he’d closed himself off.

She wondered if he was maybe regretting his decision to marry her in name only. It couldn’t be easy living with the woman you had professed to love and yet receive nothing but a live in maid that helped you cook your meals. She didn’t even wear his ring nor bear his name.

Maybe it was time she changed that.

She knew Charles would never stake claim to her as his property, though she was sure that if another man ever tried to push his advances on her Charles would stake his claim as her husband. Most people wouldn’t see the difference, but she did.

To Charles a wife was a partner, not a possession. At least this wife was and always would have been if they had married under different circumstances. For all of his blustering about tradition, this was one area that Charles was very _modern_.

Elsie didn’t know if she could ever be a wife in every way, but she thought she had enough of herself back that she could at least wear a ring and maybe even be Mrs. Carson.

 

~*~

 

Elsie blinked in surprise at the person she found standing in the post office. “Lady Edith?” she whispered as her eyes were drawn to the child cradled against the young woman’s chest.

Edith smiled and nodded. “It’s me, Mrs.,”

Elsie took off her gloves as shook her head. “Just Elsie.”

“Yes, just Elsie. Seems she’s decided not to take the name of the man she’s living with,” came a snide comment from the post mistress. “I’ve heard rumors she married Charles Carson, but I see no proof. No ring.”

Elsie swallowed as she turned to look at Mrs. Jones, her left hand instinctively finding its way into her pocket. “I,” she tried, her heart pounding.

“Well? Cat got your tongue? What do you have to say for yourself? I’ll not have the likes of you,”

“Enough!” Edith shouted, startling her daughter. “Shh, Darling,” she soothed then turned back to the post mistress. “I happen to know that she is married to Mr. Carson. I’ll not have you speaking to her like that. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to post these.” She sat her letters down on the counter. “Elsie, what was it you needed?”

Elsie held out her letter, turning and rushing out when Edith took it. She couldn’t seem to breathe and needed fresh air, cold as it may be. Maybe the cold would keep her from passing out since her head felt light and she felt dizzy. She could feel a panic attack coming on.

Why had she thought she could go into the post office and not be verbally attacked by that woman? She’d known the way that woman was for years. Mrs. Jones was the nosiest woman in all of England, Elsie was sure, and she had a mean streak about her that had made Elsie often wonder just why the woman was still post mistress.

Hearing the door open, Elsie turned to see Edith standing watching her.

“Are you alright, Elsie?” Edith asked, still unsure of just what had happened. She knew of the marriage, her grandmother had told her of it, but seeing Elsie told another story. A story that Edith wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I just need to get home. Mr. Carson will worry if I’m gone longer.”

“Then let me give you a ride, hmm? It’s gotten colder and my motor’s just there,” she pointed.

Elsie nodded, her legs too wobbly to argue that she could make it on her own. “Would you let me fix you some tea?”

“I would. I had meant to visit with you while I was here, so today seems as good a time as any. Besides,” Edith whispered as she started toward her car. Opening the passenger side door, she smiled at Elsie. “I have someone to introduce to you, but for now, can you hold her while I drive?”

Elsie held out her arms and took the sleeping child, gently cradling her close as Edith closed the door. She hadn’t heard that Edith married, but with a babe, surely she had. Looking down at the sweet face, she felt herself calming and smiled when the wee lassie hummed in her sleep. She was a darling little lass that looked a lot like her mother.

Edith watched Elsie out of the corner of her eye as she drove toward the Carson cottage. This was not the woman she’d known since she was a young teenager. The fire she was accustomed to from the Scottish woman seemed to be missing.

Turning her attention fully back to the road, her mind wondered to dark places.

Dear god above what happened?


	32. Chapter 32

Elsie had been surprised at the truth about Marigold, but had been very proud of the young woman for taking her mistake, owning it, and claiming her child as her own to raise. “Hello Marigold,” she whispered when the tot’s eyes opened and looked around before settling on Elsie. A sweet smile lit the girl’s face as she studied the stranger then she looked up at her mother.

“Have nice nap, Darling?” Edith asked when Marigold sat up and blinked in surprise as her eyes caught sight of Charles walking into the room with the tea things.

“Mummy,” she murmured, her eyes still watching Charles.

Elsie bit her lip to keep from laughing when Charles waggled his eyebrows at Marigold then winked and handed her a biscuit causing the child to giggle timidly.

Edith smiled as Marigold snuggled against her, the biscuit clutched in her hand. “That is Mr. Carson. He used to sneak Mummy sweeties when I was little.”

Marigold’s eyes followed Charles as he handed her mother a cup of tea and then moved to prepare one for Elsie. Her gaze left Charles and moved to Elsie when she heard her speak. “Mummy,” she whispered. “Talk,” she frowned, not sure what to say.

Elsie smiled and nodded. “I do sound rather funny when I talk.”

Edith shook her head and shrugged. “Sorry.”

“No need. It isn’t the first time. Sybil wasn’t quite so timid about it.” Elsie winked.

“Oh, I remember that. We were all scandalized by her reaction.”

“And I found it rather endearing.” Elsie winked when Marigold looked at her again taking a small nibble of her biscuit.

“I’m sorry for my reaction when you arrived, My Lady.” Charles finally spoke up as he sat with his own tea.

“Not My Lady anymore, Mr. Carson. I’m simply Edith or Miss Crawley. I left Lady Edith behind when I claimed my daughter and moved to London.”

Charles nodded. “You’ll forgive me if I slip.”

Edith nodded. “And you’ll for me if I slip and call you just Carson.”

Charles smiled. “Your grandmother still calls me that. I’ll answer to just about anything.”

“Charles,” Elsie whispered. “you’re being watched.”

Charles looked at Marigold to see the child’s bright grey eyes watching him. “Hello Miss Marigold.”

Marigold’s eyes widened. “Bear, Mummy.”

Elsie laughed when Charles half grinned and shrugged. “He does sort of rumble like a bear, but he’s ever so nice, Marigold.”

Edith steadied the tot when she wiggled down off her lap, watching as she made her way over to Charles. Covering her mouth when Marigold tapped Charles on the knee, she barely held in her laughter at her daughter’s request.

“Again, Misser Car,” she frowned. “Charwie?” she finally settled on remembering what Elsie had called him though shortening it a bit.

Charles smiled down at the little girl. “Of course. Just like your mother. She was always asking for stories just to hear me talk.” He shook his head as he sat down his tea cup and held out his hands. “Would you like to come sit on my lap?”

Marigold studied him a moment then turned to look at her mother, getting her approval before looking back at Charles and holding up her arms. Settling herself in just the right spot on Charles’ lap, she looked up at him. “Story, pwease?”

“Would you like to hear _Goldilocks and the Three Bears*_?” he asked, smiling when the little girl’s head bobbed up and down.

“That is her favorite story.” Edith told him. “This time Marigold, you’ll get to hear all the voices. Mr. Carson does wonderful voices.”

Elsie stood and began to gather the tea things. “I’ll take these to the kitchen.”

“I’ll help. We’ll leave these two to their story.” Edith winked at Marigold. “Mummy is going to the kitchen with Elsie.”

Marigold nodded and wiggled into a more comfortable spot. “I ready, Charwie.”

“Alright then, here we go.”

 

~*~

 

“I’m so glad you’re not angry with me.” Edith whispered as she sat at the table across from Elsie.

“Oh, Lass, why would I be angry with you? There are a lot of people that I’m angry with and never wish to see again, but you are not included in that number. I knew that day that you were very upset at what you were being forced to do. I’ve never blamed you.”

Edith sniffed and wiped at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Thank you. I’ve been so angry about that day and now,” she bit her lip as she looked up at the older woman. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but,”

Elsie took a deep breath and reached out to cover Edith’s hands. “It’s a long and not very nice story, Lass, but I’m getting better every day with all of the love and care I’m getting from friends and Charles. Charles has been my rock through everything.”

Edith heard what Elsie hadn’t said and decided that she would ask her grandmother for the rest of the story. Instead of asking for more, she smiled at up at Elsie. “He loves you. Always has.”

Elsie raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh?” she breathed, thankful that the young woman had taken her explanation and not asked any further questions. She knew that Edith would probably ask her grandmother for a better explanation, but she was fine with that – the last thing she wanted to do was talk about those three years of hell.

Edith nodded. “Sybil and I used to speculate on whether or not the two of you were secretly married.”

Elsie shook her head. “Oh my.”

“She was sure that you were. I told her it wasn’t possible, that Carson wouldn’t do such a thing, even though I did agree that he loved you.”

“Well, you were right.” Elsie sighed as she looked down at her bare left hand. “He was always a very dear friend, and if he’d asked, I would have married him in secret.”

“You’ve always loved him. That’s why you took the blame for something that never happened.”

Elsie nodded. “I have and it is. The Crawleys were all the family he had, and his reputation, I thought, was everything to him.”

“But it wasn’t, Elsie. When he learned that you had left,” Edith’s voice cracked. “Even Mary couldn’t bring him back to himself. He missed you. When he learned the truth,”

“Was he not told?”

“He was told the same as the others.”

“The lie about my sister?” Elsie asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Who told him the truth?”

“I did after Mary,” Edith bit her lip.

“I’m sorry. I know the two of you didn’t get on well, but she was your sister.”

“We had actually grown a bit closer before she died. Not much, we never would have been because we were polar opposites, but enough.”

“Why did she never tell him the truth?”

“I think she tried, but something must have happened that changed her mind. Maybe she saw how hurt he already was and decided that the truth would only hurt him more. Or maybe she was just being her usual selfish self and decided not to so that he would stay for her.” Edith frowned. “Has he not told you any of this?”

Elsie shook her head. “I’ve been told things here and there, but some bits have been left out. Charles’ retirement is one of them. I was only told he’d retired, nothing more.”

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Edith worried.

“No, Lass. I’m glad you did. It explains a few things. Thank you.” Elsie patted Edith’s hands then raised an eyebrow when they heard a squeal from the sitting room. “It seems Charles has gotten to the part about Baby Bear.”

Edith laughed and nodded. “Must have.” She sighed as she looked at Elsie. “We really should be going, it’s getting late. Would you mind if we came to see you again before we go back to London?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all and I don’t think Charles would, either. I think he some times misses the children.”

Edith nodded. “He was very good with them. Oh,” she smiled. “Tom is going to be bringing Sybie back to visit for the holidays. Would you like to see them while they’re here?”

Elsie’s eyes light up then she frowned. “I don’t wish to scare Miss Sybie.”

Edith knew what Elsie was talking about, the white hair had been a bit of a shock though she’d kept it to herself. “Once she sees you and hears your voice, she’ll be as happy as she always was. You were her favorite. Tom often tells me how much Sybie mentions you. She’s not forgotten.”

Elsie nodded. “Okay. If they wish to visit, that will be fine. I’d like to see how well America is treating them.”

“Now,” Edith laughed when Marigold squealed again. “I think I should go rescue Mr. Carson.”

“No need. I’m sure he hasn’t quite finished the story yet.”

“Well then, we’ll go and listen to the last of it. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that voice telling a story.”


	33. Chapter 33

“Charles.” Elsie whispered as they sat in the sitting room after washing up from their dinner. She’d spent the last half hour simply staring into the fire listening to Charles turning the pages in the book he was currently reading.

Charles looked up from his book. “Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she answered as she turned to look at him.

“About?”

“I think I would like to change my name.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Elsie, you know that I don’t require you to do that.”

“I do, and I also know why, but I think it’s time I became Mrs. Carson. I,” she worried her lip as she tried to remain calm and steady. “I think I would like to have a ring.”

“Elsie, what’s brought this on? Has someone said something to you?” Charles asked. “You did seem a bit off after your visit to the village.” He frowned. “Did Mrs. Jones say something?” he finally asked, sure that the battleaxe hadn’t held her tongue.

Elsie looked down at her hands. “She did say something, and Edith, the wonderful lass, came to my rescue, but that wasn’t what brought this about.”

“What did the woman say to you?” Charles asked, ignoring everything but Elsie’s admission.

“It doesn’t matter, Charles.”

“Elsie, it does matter. I’ll not have anyone saying things to you that hurt you, which clearly happened if it took Miss Crawley defending you.”

Elsie sighed as her mind numbly registered that he had actually remembered to refer to Edith as Miss Crawley instead of Lady Edith. “It’s taken care of. The young lady did a rather nice job of telling the old woman off, though I’m sure that she’s been talking about Edith ever since now that I know the story of Marigold.” Staring into the fire again, Elsie sighed, “Charles, where has Charlie gone?” she finally asked.

“I don’t think I understand, Elsie.” Charles gave in answer though he was sure that he did. He knew that he’d slipped back into his old self, but he couldn’t seem to stop it from happening.

“Have I done something wrong to make you be just Charles again? You never,” she fidgeted with a pleat in her skirt. “You never do anything silly to make me laugh anymore.” She looked up at him. “Is it because I don’t wear your ring or have your name?”

“No, Elsie. Is that why you said you thought it was time you became Mrs. Carson and started wearing a ring?”

Elsie sighed, struggling to find the words to explain herself. “Remember when we married, that I said I needed to go ahead with it for me?”

“I do.”

“Wearing your ring and taking your name are things I need to do for me, though I will admit that a small part of it is because of you.”

“Elsie, I don’t require those things. I thought you understood.”

“I do understand, Charles,” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I know that you have done all of this for me to keep from upsetting me or frightening me, but I have to do this. I can’t keep letting you,” she shook her head. “I think I’ll turn in. Today has been tiring,” she explained quietly as she stood up and made her way towards the stairs. She had to get away before she broke down completely in front of him.

“Elsie, no. Don’t do that.” Charles called after her. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been,” he shook his head. “I’m just sorry. It isn’t anything you’ve done, it’s me. If you want to wear a ring and take my name, I’d be honored.”

 

~*~

 

Elsie startled awake, a loud clap of thunder rattling the windows causing her to cower where she sat. Getting up, still half asleep, she stumbled toward the corner, then stopped when lightning lit up the room. The brightness had served to wake her fully and she stared down at the pallet. She didn’t want that.

Turning toward the door, she crept out and down the hall to Charles’ bedroom. Standing just inside the door, she watched the lightning illuminate him as he slept, his light snores lost in the rolling thunder. Shivering as memories began to wash over her, she cried out when the thunder boomed again.

“Charlie!”

Charles was instantly awake, his eyes finding Elsie in a flash of lightning. “Elsie,” he breathed as he sat up and turned to get out of bed, then paused his movements not wanting to startle her. “What is it, Lass?”

“He loved the storms. They excited him. He, he,” she cried out with another clap of thunder, her wild eyes staring at Charles.

“Elsie, come here, Lass.” Charles invited gently as he lifted the blankets and held out his hand. “I’m only going to hold you to warm you and protect you until the storm is over.”

Elsie stared at his hand then looked up at him, rushing to him with a cry as the thunder boomed once more. “Don’t let him hurt me,” she whispered, lost in mingled memories and reality.

“He’s dead, Lass. Remember?” Charles whispered as he held her close and pulled the blankets tighter around her.

“I just want the storm to stop,” she cried as she burrowed into Charles’ embrace, her hand clutching the lapels of his pajama shirt. “Every time it stormed. So many times. It always seemed worse when it stormed. He had a special outfit for me to wear and a special whip that he used,” her voice was quiet as she spoke of her abuse to Charles for the first time. “He would make me scream with the thunder.”

Charles buried his face in Elsie’s hair, anger surging through him as he listened to her recounting her hell. “No more, Lass,” he assured her, his voice barely controlled. “No one will ever hurt you again. I’m going to hold you until the storm is over.” His mind swirled with images of her being hurt, the thoughts making his heart ache and his embrace tighten around Elsie.

“Tell me a story?” she asked, her tears still falling as she shivered with the memories. They were painful, but not like they used to be. Maybe it was because she knew her tormentor was dead. Or maybe it was because of the man currently holding her. Maybe knowing that he would never hurt her, and that he would protect her from anyone that ever tried to hurt her again, helped ease the pain. She was surprised that she wasn’t afraid to be in his bed, but she supposed that her fear of the storm and the memories it invoked was stronger. That and she’d never been afraid of Charles’ touch and they were sitting up not lying down. She calmed further when the rumble of his voice vibrated through her ear as she laid against his chest.

“It was storming the day that changed my life. The storm raging outside had Lady Sybil clinging to my leg. Her parents were cross. The nanny was cross. The older girls were cross. I was simply limited in doing my job by the added weight of the little girl sitting on my foot, her arms and legs wrapped around my leg, but I was helpless against her big eyes staring up at me as she begged me not to make her go.

So, I did my best to walk and do my duty with her tagging along. I had just made up my mind to lift her up into my arms when the storm blew the back door open and a bedraggled figure along with it. Lady Sybil screamed in fright and then the most wonderful sound I’d ever heard, issued forth from the figure I still hadn’t gotten a good look at. “Hush, wee lassie. Tis’ only nature and me, the rather soaked new Housekeeper.” And that was that. The sound of your voice hushed and calmed Lady Sybil and sent a jolt straight to my heart. I was hopelessly lost from then on, though I wouldn’t have admitted it. I don’t think I really recognized it then.

I did know that when it stormed, I always enjoyed it more after that day. After all, it was a storm that brought a fiery Scottish lass into my life.” Charles finished his story and sighed in relief that Elsie had fallen asleep somewhere in the telling of it. He smiled sadly as he thought of how the Crawley girls had always fallen asleep when he’d told them a story, his voice having a sort of hypnotic effect on tired lasses.

His only hope now was that Elsie didn’t wake frightened by being in his bed. His actions the last few weeks had hurt her enough, the last thing he wanted was to do more harm than the good he was trying to do. When the morning came, he would have to ask her again if she was sure of her decision to wear a ring and change her name. If that was truly what she wanted, he’d give her his mother’s ring and inform people she was to be called Mrs. Carson. As for himself, well, he’d have to try harder. He wasn’t really sure what was happening himself.


	34. Chapter 34

Beryl looked at the ring on Elsie’s finger and then up at her friend. “It’s very beautiful. How does it feel?”

Elsie touched the ring. “I don’t really notice it. Not like I thought I would. The other ring always felt so heavy on my finger that it bothered me. This one is light and cool as if it’s always been a part of me.” She looked up at Beryl. “Does that make sense to you? It doesn’t to me.”

Beryl smiled as she squeezed Elsie’s hand. “Yes, it does. The first one was put there against your will. It bound you to a man you didn’t love. It made you his property. This one you chose to wear and it binds you to the man you’ve always loved. It’s a symbol of his love for you, that he would give you the ring that belonged to his mother.”

“Did you know her?”

“I did. She was a very small woman, smaller than you and I. That she had a son such as Charles always brought about a few giggles. She was a fierce thing when she had to be. She loved Charles. Spoiled him most of the time, but would cuff him upside the head when need be. He was devoted to her. When he decided to leave, it broke her heart, but she knew that he needed to see the world, to make mistakes, and to learn from them. She died shortly after he returned to Downton.” Beryl smiled at her friend. “She would have loved you very much if only because you love her Charlie.”

“She called him Charlie?”

“Oh yes. If she really wanted to get to him, she’d call him her Charlie boy. That usually earned a grunted, “Mum,” and then a bashful half smile half scowl down at her.” Beryl laughed at the memory. “I teased him often about that before he left.”

“I’m glad to know she loved him. His father?”

“Died when Charles was too young to remember him. They say he was a large man like Charles. Mrs. Carson used to say Charles was a spitting image of his father. No one ever argued. Only the Dowager would know for sure if it was the truth as she’s the only one around that would have known Charles’ father.”

Elsie sighed as she sat back. “Edith has visited with her wee lassie.”

“Edith?” Beryl asked.

“Lady Edith, though she’s asked to be called Edith or Miss Crawley. She said that she’d left the lady behind when she claimed her daughter and left Downton.”

“And how did himself react to that?”

Elsie shook her head. “When I arrived home with her because she’d driven me, he wasn’t very happy. I think he was more startled than anything. He knew the truth about the wee lassie, I didn’t.”

“Another one of those things we didn’t tell you.”

“Mmm hmm.” Elsie shrugged. “But I understand, so no worries.”

“I suspect he wasn’t much for having a Lady to tea in his home, either.”

“I think that was what it was really all about. He’s changed in some ways, in others,” Elsie sighed and shook her head.

“What is it, Elsie?”

“He isn’t Charlie anymore. He,” she bit her lip. “He doesn’t do all of those silly things to make me laugh. I’ve worked so hard to learn to live with a man again, to be a wife, and all the while I’m struggling to do that, he’s pulling away. I feel like I’ve done something, though he says I haven’t. I slept in his bed,” she whispered.

Beryl blinked at that, definitely not what she expected to hear. “You slept in his bed? With him?”

Elsie nodded. “The storm,” she bit her lip, her hands trembling. “I had gone to bed early because of everything that had happened. The thunder startled me and I walked half asleep over to the pallet. I woke up all of the way and realized that wasn’t what I wanted. I didn’t want to go back to that. I remembered what Charles said to me, to call him if I needed him.”

“So you went to him.” Beryl whispered with a soft smile.

“I woke him and he held up his blankets and offered to hold me and warm me until I was settled. I remembered things, remembered why storms bother me, and I told him.” Looking up at her friend, Elsie finished in a whisper. “I told him, Beryl.”

“And what did he do?”

“He got angry, I could feel his body tense, but he didn’t let me go. He just buried his face in my hair and promised no one would ever hurt me again. I asked him to tell me a story to help me calm down and forget.”

Beryl smiled and squeezed Elsie’s hand. “And he told you the story of how a storm blew in a fiery Scottish lass.”

Elsie blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

Beryl chuckled and hugged Elsie. “Because Charles has loved storms ever since that day.” Pulling back, she held Elsie’s hands. “And because he would want you to have a good memory for storms. He loves you, Elsie. Don’t let whatever is going on with him, set you back. You’ve come so far, Lass. So far from the frightened woman you were when I first saw you.”

“When you found me in the corner.” Elsie whispered.

“Yes.” Beryl nodded. “But you’re better. You’re fighting to be yourself again. Just keep trusting Charles. Eventually you’ll find out just what is going on with him. I promise. You’ve always been the one to get the man to open up.”

“You really don’t think I’ve done something?”

Beryl shook her head. “No, Lass. It may be that he’s acting this way because he’s trying to protect you from things he’s heard people saying in the village. Just keep remembering that he loves you and he’ll always take care of you.”

“But Beryl,” Elsie sighed. “I,”

Beryl stopped her. “I know. Talk to him, Elsie. Tell him. Make him see that you’re stronger now.”

“I’m not sure how to make him see.”

“Yell at him.”

“What?” Elsie asked with a frown.

“You heard me. Yell at him. It always got his attention before.”

Elsie chewed on her bottom lip. “But why would I yell if there’s no reason to?”

“I’m sure you could find something to yell at him over. He can’t be perfect to live with.”

“That’s just it, he is. He lets me sleep while he gets up to fix breakfast. We usually cook the other two meals together. He does the house cleaning. We’ve fussed a bit over me doing the wash and mending, but we settled that easily enough.”

“Find something wrong with his cleaning. I can’t believe his cleaning is up to your standards.” Beryl smirked when Elsie quirked an eyebrow at her. “It isn’t, is it?”

“Well,” Elsie hedged as she looked down at her hands. “Oh but, I couldn’t. He’s been so very good to me.”

“But you can, and you should. Elsie, be yourself. If it bothers,” Beryl stopped and rolled her eyes then laughed, “You’ve been going behind him and fixing it, haven’t you?”

Elsie shrugged. “I might have been.”

Beryl shook her head. “Stop and then yell at him. Make him see that your fire is coming back. Believe me, it will get through to him. I promise.”

“Well he did seem a bit happy when I yelled and threw the brush before.”

Beryl laughed, remembering that story. “See? I think he needs that. If you yell at him for something, he’ll know, Elsie. He’s stubborn, Lass. Let him see that you’re getting stronger, don’t just tell him. Besides,” she shrugged. “I’d wager that he’s been doing a bad job of cleaning to test you.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t. Would he?”

“He might be. Maybe he’s trying to make you yell at him again.”

Elsie shook her head. “Oh the daft man.”

“A daft man that’s very in love with you.”


	35. Chapter 35

“Charles Carson!” Elsie shouted as she watched him brush a bit of dirt under the rug by the front door.

Charles, having heard her, continued about his way, shoving things where they don’t belong, pushing more dirt under things.

Elsie narrowed her eyes when Charles didn’t respond. She knew he’d heard her. Watching as he skimmed over a surface with the duster, she rolled her eyes. He was doing a worse job than usual. She’d thought him a daft but lovely man when talking to Beryl a few days ago, but the more she’d thought about it, the more upset she’d gotten.

The man had been creating work for her to do when he was supposedly doing it so that she didn’t have to!

Bloody man!

“Charles Carson, so help me, if you put that rag under the cushion I’ll brain you with this vase!” she shouted, stopping him in his tracks.

Charles turned to face Elsie, the offending item still held in his fingers, his eyes straying to where her hand was wrapped around the vase they kept flowers in by the settee. “What?” he asked, looking back up at her.

“Don’t you what me, Charles Carson! You heard me. What are you doing? Don’t think that I haven’t figured out what you’ve been up to! You said you would do the cleaning because you didn’t want me to feel I had to, but yet you’ve been,” she scowled and threw her hand out in an arch about the room. “You’ve been making a right bloody mess! It’s insane, is what it is! Bloody insane! Have you lost your senses?” Her hands planted firmly on her hips, Elsie glared at him. “Well? What have you to say for yourself? Pushing dirt under the rugs, moving the dust about instead of properly dusting things, and shoving rags under my cushions!”

Charles stood staring at his wife, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile like an idiot. Seeing his wife’s eyes narrow again, he tried harder, but failed and his smile broke free.

“Why are you smiling like the village idiot?” Elsie shouted at him. “Charles Carson, stop that! I’m standing yelling at you and you’re grinning at me like the cat that ate the cream!”

Charles nodded then laughed as he tossed the rag behind him. “There’s my Elsie!”

Outside their door, Richard’s hand paused in mid-knock as he turned to look at his wife. “What in the world?” he whispered as he listened to Elsie cursing in the Gaelic followed by more of Charles’ laughter.

Isobel, wide-eyed and just as confused as her husband, shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea. What is she saying?”

Richard shook his head. “Nothing for a lady’s ears.”

Isobel laughed at that. “Our Elsie is getting her fire back.”

Richard smiled as he knocked. “Certainly sounds like it.”

“Should we disturb them?” Isobel asked when their knock went unnoticed.

“Well they did invite us over for tea.”

“Yes, but I believe they’ve forgotten.”

Back inside, Elsie paused to catch her breath then stood staring at Charles in horror at the sound of the knock on the door. “Good laird!” she breathed. “Richard and Isobel!”

Charles, trying desperately to get control of himself, cleared his throat and looked at his pocket watch. “It is almost time for tea.”

Elsie shot him a dirty look and hissed, “We aren’t done, Mr. Carson.”

“I hope not, Mrs. Carson,” he shot back before walking passed her to open the door for their guests.

Elsie scowled. The daft man had been laughing! She shook her head as she hurried over to pick up the rag he’d dropped. Shrugging her shoulders, she stuffed it under the cushion then rushed off toward the kitchen. She was still upset that he’d been making work for her, which was ridiculous, but for now she’d have to play hostess. They’d have another _discussion_ later.

 

~*~

 

“Elsie, is everything alright?” Isobel asked as she helped Elsie with the tea things.

Elsie blushed and looked down at the plate of biscuits she’d prepared. “Oh heavens above, I’m sorry for that. How much did you hear?”

“Enough, most of which I didn’t really understand.” Isobel chuckled when Elsie’s blush deepened. “Richard did, of course, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“And well he shouldn’t.”

“If a lady shouldn’t hear them, then a lady shouldn’t say them.” Isobel replied with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing I’m no lady then.” Elsie returned with a smirk of her own. “I won’t be telling you, Isobel Clarkson.”

Isobel wrinkled her nose then reached out and hugged Elsie. “It’s so very good to see you teasing, Elsie. So very good.”

Elsie returned the hug then pulled back and smiled at her friend. “I can never thank you enough for taking such good care of me. If Charles hadn’t had you and Richard to bring me to, I don’t think I would have made it. Strangers would have only made the situation worse.”

“He knew that. He wouldn’t let anyone see you when he brought you to the hospital. The nurse kept trying to get him to lay you down, but he refused. He kept your face covered to protect you and made us promise not to say anything to anyone. He knew that you would be embarrassed if people saw you that way and he didn’t want that for you.”

“He’s done so much for me, but I need him to stop. I have to keep doing and fighting for myself, or least trying, if I’m ever going to be me again.”

“I think your yelling at him will help your cause.” Isobel shook her head. “I understand now what Matthew meant.”

Elsie raised her eyebrow and cocked her head. “What?”

“He must have come up on the two of you arguing, though he never explained what he was doing below stairs. All I know is that he said he heard you yelling with Charles blusteringly trying to interrupt and turned and rushed back upstairs. He said he’d never in all of his days been afraid of just a woman’s voice, but you had him shaking in his boots.”

“Oh my.” Elsie blushed as she lifted a tray. “We did have some rather heated disagreements.”

Isobel gawped at her friend. “Disagreements? That’s what you call what was going on?” She shook her head. “Elsie, that was an out and out row.”

“Well he was scooting dirt under the rugs! And stuffing rags under the cushions!”

Isobel held up her hands. “Easy.”

Elsie chuckled, “Sorry.”

“Shall we take this in before the tea grows completely cold?”

“I think we’d better. The men will come looking for us if we don’t.”

 

~*~

 

“You’ve been doing what?” Richard asked as he stared across at his friend. “Charles, old man, that’s,” he shook his head.

“Daft. Foolish.” Charles suggested. “I know, but I had to do something.”

“But Charles, you made work for her after telling her she wouldn’t have to do the cleaning. You had to know she would notice and fix the mess herself.”

Charles scrubbed a hand over his face. “I made a right mess of things, but,” he looked up at his friend. “She yelled at me. She was all fire and sass and hands on hips and,” he couldn’t help the grin. “She’s never used words I couldn’t understand before.”

“It was the Gaelic, and it’s just as well you didn’t understand what she was saying.”

Charles blinked in surprise at Richard. “She wouldn’t.”

“Oh, she most certainly did.” Richard chuckled and shook his head. “The lass definitely has some of her fire back. I haven’t heard words such as that since I was a young man spending time around sailors.”

Charles laughed and was still laughing when the women came into the room. He could see that they had been laughing themselves, and wondered what they’d been talking about while preparing tea.

“And what has you lasses so jolly?” Richard asked, winking at Isobel when she wrinkled her nose at him.

“Girl talk, Doctor.” Isobel answered cheekily, earning her a grateful smile from Elsie.

“And what had you lads so jolly?” Elsie asked, echoing the doctor’s brogue.

Isobel shook her head and laughed. “Who knew I’d be surrounded by Scots in the second half of my life?”

Elsie raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you saying you don’t like to hear us talk?”

“Oh no. Nothing of the sort.” Isobel answered, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at Elsie for being so cheeky. “I love to hear the two of you,” she answered, leaving off the fact that hearing her husband when they were alone affected her in a much different way. “It’s just that I spent a lifetime surrounded by very posh English accents. I find it refreshing to listen to the lilt and the rolling of the r’s. I enjoy it when one of you slip into the Gaelic, even if I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

Richard knew what his wife wasn’t saying, and suspected that Charles thought much the same. Elsie’s brogue probably affected the man just as much as his own brogue affected Isobel. Though neither of the two would admit it in company. He’s seen the look Elsie had passed Isobel when she’d quickly answered his question, and wondered if Elsie had been telling his wife about the argument. Catching a glint of light as Elsie lifted a biscuit to her mouth, he raised his eyebrow. Where had that come from?

“Elsie, is that the reason you asked the two of us to tea today?” he asked as he nodded toward her left hand.

Isobel frowned as she looked from her husband to Elsie, gasping in surprise when she noticed what he was talking about. “It’s lovely, Elsie. How did I miss it before?”

Elsie shrugged as she fidgeted with the ring. “You weren’t expecting it. It _is_ why we invited you to tea.”

“I thought,” Isobel started, stopping when Elsie looked up at her.

“Charles didn’t force me to. It was my decision.”

“Oh no, Elsie. I wasn’t thinking that.” Isobel assured. “I’m just a bit shocked, that’s all. Are you alright with it?”

Elsie smiled over at Charles as she nodded. “I am. It was his mother’s ring, so it’s special. I made the decision to wear a ring and to take his name because I needed to do it for me.”

Richard smiled. “Good, Lass. Good. It’s part of your healing.”

Elsie nodded. “Yes. And, the ring doesn’t bother me. I really don’t notice it. The other ring,” she paused and looked back down at her hand.

“The other ring wasn’t put there with love.” Isobel whispered, smiling when Elsie looked up at her.

Charles smiled softly at Elsie when she looked at him. “She’s right, Lass.” Taking her hand, he lifted it to press a kiss to her finger over the ring. “I owe you an apology, Elsie. I shouldn’t have been making messes. I really only wanted to make you yell at me. I hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t thought about you going behind me and cleaning it all up.”

Elsie frowned. “You mean Beryl was right? You wanted me to yell at you?”

“Why do you think I laughed? Yelling at me,” he chuckled then continued. “And cursing at me, that gave me all the proof I need that my Scottish lass is getting her fire back. It’s all I wanted, Elsie. All I wanted.”

Elsie scowled over at Richard. “And just _how_ does he know I was cursing at him?”

Richard grinned and shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Elsie rolled her eyes then turned back to Charles. “You daft man. I accept your apology. From now on, maybe I should do the cleaning.” She winked at him. “You’re lousy at it.”

Richard and Isobel laughed as they watched the couple. It was good to see Elsie happy and teasing.

Charles laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I try.”


	36. Chapter 36

“Are you sure you’re warm enough, Elsie?” Charles asked for the third time since they’d left their cottage.

“Charles,” she fussed at him. “You can’t bundle me up anymore than you have or I won’t be able to move.”

Charles gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

Rolling her eyes at him, she patted his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright. Just stop fussing so.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh,” she huffed with a gentle pinch to his arm. “Where are we going first?”

“Well, we need things for the kitchen, and we need to post a few things.”

Elsie sighed, “We might as well get the post over with. At least if the woman sees me with you, she’ll keep her opinions to herself.”

“Are you suggesting that she’s afraid of me?” Charles asked as he looked down at his wife.

“You’re a big man and all you’ve ever been with her is gruff because of the way she acts. She’s not seen the softer side of Charles Carson.”

Charles shrugged. “If it keeps her from harassing you, I’ll be as grumpy as I can be.”

“Roar like a bear?” she teased.

Charles shook his head and winked. “No. My roaring is only for your ears.”

Elsie laughed and snuggled closer. “We’ll soon need to think about Christmas.”

Charles nodded. “We will. It’s rather hard to believe it’s so close.”

Elsie nodded, suddenly quiet as she remembered how her Christmases had been for the past three years.

Charles gently squeezed her hand. “Elsie, we’ll make new memories this year. Good memories. I’ve been thinking.”

Taking a deep breath, Elsie looked up at Charles. “Oh?”

“Mmm hmm. What if we invite Daisy and Beryl to have Christmas with us?”

Smiling, she nodded. “I’d like that. And a tree? Will we have a tree?”

Charles nodded. “Of course we will.” He frowned. “I don’t have many ornaments. We could buy some if you want. Start our own collection and traditions.”

Pausing outside the door of the post office, Elsie took Charles’ hand and squeezed it. “Thank you. I,” she bit her lip and looked down at their hands. “Just thank you.”

Lifting her face, Charles smiled at her. “I told you, I’ll do anything for you.” Gently tugging her back to his side, he opened the door and let her go in first, his hand against the small of her back as he stepped in behind her.

Elsie shivered a bit then took off her gloves before opening her small handbag to pull out her letters. “I thought I would send a Christmas letter to John and Anna now so that it’s sure to get there before the holiday.”

“Maybe when Spring comes we’ll take a trip to visit them. I’ve never been to Ireland.”

“Nor have I. I would love to see them again.”

“And I’m positive Elsie May would love to see her Grammy.”

“And her Charwie.” Elsie chuckled.

Charles’ smile turned to a scowl when he heard the grating voice of Mrs. Jones. Looking up at the woman, he gave his best butler’s stare, making her cower back which gave him more satisfaction that he knew it should.

Elsie bit her lip to keep from smirking as she and Charles moved up in the queue to take their place at the counter. Intentionally using her left hand, Elsie slid her letters across to Mrs. Jones.

“You’ve finally put a ring on her finger I see.” Mrs. Jones couldn’t help commenting. “The Dowager give you the money? That’s a fancier ring that a man such as yourself,”

“I’ll thank you to close your mouth.” Charles interrupted, trying to keep from roaring at the woman, knowing that raising his voice would upset Elsie. “The ring, though it’s none of your business, was my mother’s. Now,” he growled. “Do your job so that my _wife_ and I may get on with our errands.”

Mrs. Jones kept her mouth shut as she took the letters, stamping them and putting them in the appropriate box to go out in the next post. “Good day,” she snapped.

Elsie smiled and chirped, “Good day, Mrs. Jones,” then took Charles’ hand as he led them outside.

“That insufferable,” Charles started, stopping when Elsie burst out laughing. “What in the world is so funny?”

“The look on her face! Oh how I love you, Charles Carson.”

Charles smiled. “I love you, too, Elsie Carson. Now put your gloves on, and come along. It’s starting to look like it might rain.”

Elsie looked up at the sky then sniffed the air. “You’re right. I can smell it.”

Charles looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. “You can smell it?”

Elsie nodded as she slipped her gloved hand through the crook of his elbow. “Yes. Farm girl, remember?” she gently nudged him. “Come on then, Charles.”

Charles shook his head. “You’re going to have to explain to me how you can smell rain before even a drop has fallen.”

“I don’t know how to explain it, Charles. I’ll just have to show you some day. If you don’t know what the air smells like before rain is coming, then you can’t know the difference.”

“Whatever you say, Darling.”

Elsie rolled her eyes. “Stop being smart and hurry up.”

Charles laughed as he easily kept up with her hurried steps. He could see by the clouds that the rain was growing closer so he had no problems hurrying along with his wife. Until his wife wasn’t hurrying anymore.

He hadn’t paid attention to the man yelling, hadn’t seen the hand being raised, but Elsie had and it had triggered memories. Moving to stand in front of her, he could see how pale she’d gone, how wild her eyes were as she struggled to come back from where her mind had taken her. “Elsie,” he said her name quietly. “It’s me, Charlie. Come on, Lass. Come back to me. It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He reached out to touch her only to have her pull away, something she had never done before.

“Don’t. Please,” she pleaded, her mind still lost in the past.

“Elsie,” he said her name louder. “It’s Charlie. You’re safe. You’re safe.” As they stood there, Charles felt the rain begin to fall, his voice growing louder as he tried desperately to bring Elsie back out of her memories she’d gotten lost in.

Elsie felt the rain soaking through her coat and blinked, looking around before settling on Charles. “Charlie?” she whispered her hands reaching out to grab his arms.

“Yes, Elsie. It’s me. Come on, Lass. Let’s go home and get out of this rain.”

 

~*~

 

Charles knelt down in front of where Elsie sat in front of the roaring fire he’d built while she took a warm bath to try and warm herself. “Here, Elsie. Let me put these on.”

Elsie blinked and looked down at Charles, frowning when he lifted her foot. “What are you doing?”

“I’m putting a pair of wooly socks on your feet to try and warm them.”

“Wooly socks? I don’t have any wooly socks.”

“No, you don’t, but I do,” he answered as he slid one on, pulling it all the way up, the heel of it several inches above her ankle. “I’ll fold them down or they’ll be half way to your chin,” he joked as he winked up at her, feeling his heart lighten a bit when she smiled at him.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll go that far, but they are rather long for me.”

“But they’ll do,” he said as he slid the other one on, folding it down as he had the first one. “Now, would you like me to brush your hair?” he asked as he nodded toward the brush in her lap.

“Yes, please.” Elsie whispered, her teeth chattering.

Pulling the blanket tighter around her, Charles stood, scowling when his knees cracked. Taking the brush, he moved behind her, slowly and carefully pulling it along her hair. As he brushed, he felt his hands beginning to tremble, his eyes watering. Her beautiful hair, now white from the hell she’d lived. He couldn’t fix it. He could fix it when she was cold, he could bring her back from her painful memories, he could give her the love she deserved, but he couldn’t fix her hair. It would always be a reminder.

Elsie felt Charles’ hands pause their motion, then felt something warm and wet rolling down her scalp, a definite contrast to the coolness of the water that had soaked her hair. Then she heard a gasp and turned around, finding her husband standing behind her, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Charlie?” she whispered and reached for him.

Charles shook his head and moved back, plopping down on the settee. “I’m so sorry, Elsie. I was such a fool. If only I’d told you. If only I hadn’t been so afraid of change. I can’t fix it, Elsie. I can’t fix it.”

Elsie, stunned and confused, moved to stand before her husband and gently reached out to comb her fingers through his mussed hair. “Charlie, I don’t understand. Whatever in the world are you talking about? You don’t think my hell was your fault, do you?”

“Isn’t it?” he asked.

“Oh Charlie,” she whispered as she moved closer, pulling him close, his head resting against her middle. “No, Charlie. Is this why you’ve been pulling away? Have you kept all of this bottled up all this time?”

Charles wrapped his arms around Elsie and sobbed into the thick cloth of her dressing gown. His pain had been building since the day he’d learned she was gone from Downton, and he’d not let it out. No yelling. No tears. Nothing but a few late nights of drinking, talking with Lady Mary to take his mind away from missing his friend, and then late night chats with Richard. But those were before he’d known all of the things his Elsie had gone through. When Beryl and Richard had told him all that they knew, he had bottled that reaction up, as well, too afraid of frightening Elsie and needing to be strong for her.

“Charlie, why does my white hair bother you so?” Elsie whispered after a few moments, her fingers still gently combing through his hair.

“Because I can’t fix it. I can’t do anything to take away the reminder. Every time you look in the mirror,” he took a deep breath. “I don’t want that for you. I want to take it all away. I want to fix it.”

Leaning over, Elsie sighed as she rested her cheek against his head. “Oh Charlie, you can’t take it all away. You can only keep loving me and helping me learn to live again, live passed the memories and not let them rule my life. And you’re doing that, Charlie. You’ve been doing that since you carried me away from that place. Yes, my hair is a reminder, but it’s alright. The streaks that are left of my original hair color are also a reminder.”

Charles looked up at Elsie, his cheeks still damp with his tears. “They are?”

“Mmm hmm. They’re a reminder that I’m stubborn and that I’m a fighter. You just have to keep loving me and giving me strength to get that back. But you also have to start letting go a little. You don’t have to protect me as much anymore.”

“But what if something,” he started, stopping when she put a finger over his lips.

“I’ll always need you to protect me against the demons when they’re too much, but I also need to be able to get my independence back.”

Charles nodded then looked away, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Turning his face back to her, Elsie cupped it with her hands and smiled at him, her own tears overflowing. “Oh no. Don’t ever apologize. You’ve been holding that inside all this time and it was eating away at you, pulling you away from me.” Without thought, she leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “I need my Charlie too much for that,” she whispered.

Charles, stunned by the move, held her gaze, his hands resting lightly on her hips. “Elsie,” he whispered then swallowed. “You kissed me.”

“So I did, Charlie. So I did.” Elsie smiled. He was right to be shocked, she was shocked herself at the move. But she wasn’t frightened of Charles, and being kissed would never trigger anything because there were no bad memories associated with the act as kissing wasn’t something _the bastard_ had been interested in.

Charles watched the emotions flit across his wife’s face and gently tapped her side. “I should get back to brushing your hair before it’s a dried mess.”

“You don’t have to. I can do it now.”

“Let me, please?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Elsie nodded then moved to settle back in her chair by the fire. Feeling Charles’ hands carefully separating her hair into smaller sections, she let herself wonder at the tingling that still lingered on her lips after the kiss.

Maybe kissing was something they would have to start doing more of if it felt as nice as this.

She smiled when she heard Charles mutter when he hit a particularly stubborn tangle. His tears tonight had freed him of the burden he’d been carrying, though she knew it would take more for him to finally let go of all of the guilt he felt.


	37. Chapter 37

Elsie carefully lifted an item out of the crate, gently unwrapping it and smiling as she held up it. “This one?” she asked, wanting Charles to tell her the story behind the ornament.

Charles turned from fussing with the lights to look at the object in Elsie’s hand. “That was the first one my father bought. It was for their first Christmas together as a married couple.”

Her eyes soft with love, Elsie stood and walked over to her husband. “Then it deserves the best place on the tree.”

“The best place on the tree is the top, and that isn’t made for a topper.”

Elsie shook her head at him. “No, Charlie. The center so that it’s the eye catcher.”

Smiling down at her, Charles nodded. “Fine then, but let me finish with these blasted lights. How did they get tangled so? We’ve only just purchased them!” he grumped.

Elsie laughed and shrugged. “I have no idea, Darling.”

“Don’t be smart, Lass.” Charles scolded playfully.

Going back to the crate, she lifted another item out, unwrapping it and smiling. “Well, I don’t have to ask about this one. It says.”

Charles nodded without looking. “That is the only one that says anything besides the one my father bought. Ma saved from one Christmas to the next to buy an ornament. There are only,” he paused, his voice thick with emotion. “There are only nineteen.”

Elsie felt her eyes tear up as she realized just why there were only nineteen – Mrs. Carson had stopped buying ornaments when her son had left. “Oh Charlie. I’m so sorry.”

Charles shook his head. “I was gone for six years. Six years that she worried over me and when I came home,” his voice cracked.

“I know. Beryl told me.” Elsie whispered. “Darling, even if Beryl hadn’t said, I would know that your mother loved you just by looking at these.”

Charles looked over his shoulder at the woman he loved sitting surrounded by the only mementos he had of his mother other than the ring adorning Elsie’s finger. “She would have loved you. You’re a bit like her.”

“Because I love her son?”

Charles shook his head. “Because you’ve a fire in you when there’s a need for it.”

Elsie smiled. “And because I love her son,” she added quietly.

Charles gave her a soft look then turned back to the tree. “I’ve just about finished with these lights.”

“I’ll bring these over then.”

Charles laid the plug down just under the outlet then turned to help. “Now, _little_ lass,” he teased, earning him a huff and a glare before Elsie laughed and shook her head at him.

“Oh you. Behave.”

“Which one are we hanging first?” Charles asked as he winked at her.

“This one. The very first one.” She handed him the heart shaped ornament. “Your father was a romantic.”

Charles looked at the ornament then frowned up at his wife. “What makes you say that?”

“Charlie, that is the ornament he bought for their first Christmas and he had their initials painted on it.”

Gently fingering the cool ceramic heart, he placed it the center just above the middle of the tree. “I suppose he was. Ma never said much about that.”

“No, I don’t suppose she would have.” Elsie caressed Charles’ arm. “Here,” she handed him the next one. “Your first Christmas.”

Charles nodded as he took the ornament, shaking his head at the ragged look of the small stuffed dog. “Ma said I managed to get this one down from the tree and chew on it.”

Guiding his hand so that he would put it in just the right spot, Elsie chuckled, “Teething little men need things to chew on.”

“Maybe so, but it didn’t do much for the poor thing.”

Handing him another, this time a ceramic circle with a C elaborately painted on it. “Second Christmas.”

“Ma said that it was time I had my own letter on the tree.”

“And this one – the third Christmas?” she handed him another.

“Yes. I’d taken a liking to the neighbor’s horse.”

As Elsie continued to hand Charles ornaments, he explained the story behind them, filling Elsie’s heart with love for the woman she would never get to know.

“An acorn, Charlie? For your seventeenth Christmas?”

He gave her a sheepish look. “I’d shot up so much from my fifteenth to my seventeenth, Ma said I’d grow as tall as an oak and would be as sturdy as one too.” Patting his stomach, he shrugged. “I suppose she was right.”

“I like my sturdy oak of a man, thank you very much.”

Charles smiled and took the next ornament, letting Elsie’s hand guide his once again in its placement. “I’ve never had anyone to share the stories with.”

“I’m happy to hear them. It lets me get to know the woman that raised such a fine man.” Elsie handed him the last ornament, watching as he caressed a thumb over it before placing it. Looking down into the crate, she frowned at the large object still wrapped and sitting on the bottom. “Charlie? I thought you said there were only nineteen.”

Charles looked down in the crate then gently lifted the item out. “There are. This is the tree topper. My grandfather made it.”

Elsie gasped in surprise as Charles unwrapped the object, revealing a intricately carved and painted bird of peace – a white dove. “It’s beautiful, Charlie. And your grandfather did this?”

Charles nodded as he lifted the bird from its cloth nest and turned, reaching up to place it at the top of their tree. “Ma said he was very good with his hands, at making things. He was a peaceful man from all accounts, so this was no surprise. Ma said it had always been at the top of their tree as long as she could remember having one.”

Elsie sat the crate down then moved back to look at their tree. “It’s lovely and perfect.”

“Now just to put the ornaments on that we purchased.”

“And tinsel. We mustn’t forget the tinsel.” Elsie shook her head. “We must have been insane to spend so much. The lights,” she looked at Charles. “The lights were so expensive, Charlie.”

“My ever thrifty lass. It’s our first Christmas. We can afford to splurge.” He winked at her. “Now. I’ll help you with the other decorations. You get a box of baubles, and I’ll get the other. We’ll make short work of it that way.”

Elsie nodded. “Don’t trip over the crate,” she warned as she pointed to where she’d sat it.

“Thank you, Lass.” Charles told her as he bent to lift it and bring it with him to where they’d laid out their treasures. “It’s beginning to smell a lot like Christmas in here.”

Elsie quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you mean, look?”

Charles shook his head. “Smell.” He pointed to the tree.

“Ah.” Elsie sniffed the air. “So it is. It will smell even more so when I start baking.”

“We start baking. I can help if you’ll let me.”

“I would enjoy it.” Elsie smiled at him as they walked back to the tree. Humming a carol, she began to hang the brightly color baubles, frowning when she stretched but couldn’t quite reach the spot she wanted to hang one.

“Here.” Charles laughed as he took it and placed it.

“Thank you, but don’t laugh,” she scowled at him with shining eyes full of mirth and happiness.

Charles shrugged as he went back to hanging his own baubles. “I rather like you being short. You tuck in quite nicely when I hug you.”

Elsie rolled her eyes at that, though a soft smile was playing about her lips. “Just under your chin if I’m wearing my shoes.”

“Mmm hmm. Just right.”

They continued on, both humming carols as they went, Charles occasionally taking another bauble and hanging it for her when she couldn’t stretch far enough. Finished with the baubles, they moved back to the settee and looked at the tinsel then up at each other.

“Just throw it at the tree and see where it lands?” Elsie asked making Charles frown.

“Wouldn’t that be a bit of a mess?”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll pull it apart and you can place it. Hmm? Will that work with your style and show?” she asked, winking up at him with a teasing smile.

“Quite right.”

Elsie shook her head, her tinkling laugh filling their cottage. Taking apart the first handful, she handed it to him, watching as he studied the tree to find just the right spot. This was going to take forever going about it like that.

By the time they finished, both were laughing as Charles had finally abandoned the ordered placement for simply throwing it at the tree. Of course, that had resulted in tinsel landing in his hair and in Elsie’s, which led to them laughing and removing the silvery strands to put on the tree.

“The lights, Charlie. Turn the lights on.”

“Turn the cottage lights off.”

Elsie hurried to do as he said then turned back to watch as he bent to plug in the lights. The brightly colored bulbs lit up, their colors bouncing off ornaments and tinsel. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she held out her hand for Charles. “Our first tree, Charlie.”

“The first of many.”

“Can we stay like this for a while? Just sit on the settee and enjoy the lights?”

“I think that’s a good idea. Maybe a glass of sherry to sip, hmm?”

Elsie nodded, tugging at his hand before he could release hers. “Thank you for giving me new and happy memories.”

“It’s been my pleasure, Elsie. Thank you for caring about the stories that go with my ornaments. This is the first time I’ve enjoyed decorating a tree in years.”


	38. Chapter 38

“It’s a lovely tree, Elsie.” Beryl told her friend as she looked at the decorations.

“I like it better than any tree I’ve ever seen.” Daisy whispered. “Especially the topper.”

“Charlie’s grandfather carved and painted that.”

Beryl’s eyebrows rose as she turned to look at Charles. “Why have I never seen it?”

“Because it’s been in a crate, along with several of those ornaments, since Ma died.”

Beryl nodded in understanding. “Well, I’m glad to see that you’ve brought them out. Charlotte Carson wouldn’t want them all crated up.”

“I’m glad I have someone to share them with now.”

Elsie smiled as she stood up from her chair. “I need to go check the goose.”

“I’ll come along and check on the apple tart.” Beryl chuckled when she heard Charles hum in approval. “I suppose you’ll be expecting me to leave what’s left, hmm?”

Charles shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin. “I wouldn’t say no.”

Daisy shook her head in amazement. “I can’t believe it.”

Elsie looked at the young woman. “Can’t believe what?”

Daisy blushed and looked down at her hands. “It’s like I’ve never met him before,” she whispered.

Charles laughed then winked when Daisy looked up at him. “Because you haven’t met me. You only ever knew the butler persona that I wore to protect myself.”

“Mrs. Patmore doesn’t seem surprised.”

Beryl shook her head. “Of course not. I’ve known him since he was a young man. Long before he was butler.”

Daisy grinned. “Are you why he has such a sweet tooth?”

Elsie laughed when Beryl spluttered. “I never thought of that. Are you, Beryl?”

Beryl threw up her hands. “I might have used sweets to bribe him a time or two, but I’m not responsible for his ridiculous sweet tooth.”

Charles nodded. “She’s right, she’s not. Ma would be the one for that. She was always giving me a biscuit to chew on when I was a babe, and then when I was old enough for proper tea, she always made sure I had a biscuit to go along with. Of course, one became two, then three some times four as I grew older. She’d never let me have more though. Slapped my hand when I’d reach for the fifth.”

Elsie smiled at the soft faraway look on her husband’s face. “That explains why you never eat more than four biscuits.”

Charles shrugged. “Even though I’ve been a full grown man for years now, I suppose there is still a part of me that expects a smack on the hand if I reach for more.”

“Well, I’d best be on about what I was going to do.” Elsie said, hoping to escape before she melted into a puddle of tears at the sweetness of her husband’s memories of his mother.

Beryl followed after mouthing at Daisy to ask for more stories.

“Mr. Carson?”

“Yes, Daisy?”

“Will you tell me about your ornaments?” she asked shyly, still not sure of this new version of Mr. Carson.

Charles nodded and stood up, walking over to the tree. “Which one would you like to know about first?”

 

~*~

 

“You didn’t get Daisy and I anything for Christmas, did you? We all agreed, no presents.” Beryl asked as she pulled the tart from the oven and sat it on the back of the stove top to keep it warm.

“We did, and we kept to it.” Elsie assured her friend, thankful to her for the suggestion, a suggestion that she and Charles had also kept for themselves, deciding that the lights and ornaments were enough for this year. “I know why you made the suggestion, and I’m grateful.”

Beryl feigned ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Elsie rolled her eyes. “You most certainly do, Beryl Patmore.”

Beryl shrugged. “If you say so. Now, how’s that goose coming along?”

“I believe it’s done. Will you help me lift it out? Charlie had to put it in.”

Beryl nodded and grabbed the thick towel she’d used to remove her tart. Bending with Elsie, they easily lifted the pan out and sat it on the stove. “It looks wonderful, Elsie.”

Elsie smiled. “It’s been forever since I’ve cooked a proper Christmas goose.” She pursed her lips as she thought back. “The Christmas before I left home. That’s the last time.”

“Well, as good as our meal smells, you’ve done a good job recalling what to do.”

“Charlie helped stuff the bird.”

Beryl raised an eyebrow at that. “And how did that go?”

Elsie laughed as she moved to check the rest of their meal. “He grimaced and grumbled quite a bit.”

“Something about it being _undignified_ , I’d imagine.” Beryl laughed as she helped Elsie fill the serving dishes and move them to the table.

“Yes, exactly. I heard undignified mumbled several times before he was finished. I told him that I could do it, but he mumbled something and shook his head.”

“Do you have a platter for the goose?”

“We do, but Charlie will have to get it. We’re too,” she shrugged and pointed where the platter was stored.

“We’re not giants.” Beryl supplied, no more inclined to use short as a descriptor than Elsie was.

“Precisely.”

“You need a stool.”

“Charlie says that he’ll get me one if I just really want one, but that I don’t need it with him always helping in the kitchen. I think he’s afraid I might fall off.”

Beryl chuckled and shook her head. “That’s not it, Elsie. He doesn’t want to get you one because he enjoys helping you. Even if he’s just sitting at the table reading while you do the cooking, he’s there with you.”

Elsie smiled. “I enjoy him helping. Why do you think I’ve not forced the issue? Though I still say that a part of it is that he’s afraid I’ll fall.”

“Might be.” Beryl agreed. “Now. We’d best get Charles and Daisy so we can tuck into this meal before it grows cold.”

 

~*~

 

Charles couldn’t believe he was doing this, but yet here he was, standing on one foot and juggling five objects. The fact that Elsie had asked him to sing as well, had him rolling his eyes, but he’d do anything to make her smile and laugh. He knew that she’d asked him to sing to see if he could keep his concentration. He’d huffed. Of course he could.

Daisy laughed when Charles tossed the apple her way without missing a beat with the other four objects.

“Now toss it back.” Charles told her.

Daisy blinked in surprise. “Oh but,”

“It’s alright,” he assured her with a smile.

Biting her lip, Daisy concentrated on her aim then tossed the apple back, gasping and giggling when Charles caught it without incident. “Amazing, Mr. Carson! I’ve not seen a juggler ever as good as you!”

“High praise, Charles.” Beryl teased then growled when the apple flew at her head. “Hey!”

Elsie laughed and smirked over at her friend. “I think you shouldn’t tease a man who has his hands full of objects he can aim at you.”

Beryl scowled at Elsie, her twinkling eyes giving her away. “Want it back?” she asked Charles who nodded.

Elsie watched as her husband effortlessly took the apple back into the circle. “Bravo, Charlie!” she clapped, laughing when the apple then the orange landed in her lap, the rest of the objects following until he was done.

“And that is the end of this afternoon’s entertainment.” Charles bowed slightly when his audience clapped.

“Thank you, Charlie. I’m very impressed.”

“Impressive, Charles.” Beryl grinned at him. “Did you ever try juggling trays?”

Charles nodded. “I’ve juggled much larger objects, yes, but I’ve no intention of doing so now. All we have is breakable.”

“As if you’d drop them.” Beryl rolled her eyes at him. “After that display, it explains how you could always balance two heavy trays when you were a footman.”

Charles shrugged. “I’ve always been blessed with perfect balance.”

Elsie stood up and walked around the settee to the small table that sat behind and placed the items from her lap down before picking up the Bible sitting there. Moving back to her place on the settee, she handed the book to Charles. “Read the Christmas story to us,” she whispered.

“Oh yes, please, Mr. Carson.” Daisy nodded her head. “I,”

“What is it?” Beryl asked when the young woman paused.

“It’s just that one of my favorite memories is listening to Mr. Carson read the Christmas story.”

Charles frowned. “Daisy, I never read the Christmas story below stairs.”

“No, but I still heard you.” Daisy whispered. “It was my first Christmas at Downton and I was so very homesick that I’d been hidden in a corner crying, but I’d been summoned to put more coal on a fire, so I wiped my face and hurried upstairs to do my job before anyone caught me. I weren’t much more than Lady Sybil’s age so hearing a story attracted my attention. I paused outside the open door to listen. I was nearly caught by Her Ladyship.”

Charles smiled. “She saw you.”

Daisy’s eyes widened. “But she never had me scolded!”

“She wouldn’t have, Daisy. She probably thought it sweet that you were listening to the story.” Elsie assured.

Charles caressed his fingers over the gold lettering then opened to the passage that held the sacred story. Clearing his throat, he began to read, his voice clear and deep, capturing the ladies’ attention, seeming to make the story come to life.

Elsie sighed as she laid her head on his shoulder. This is what Christmas was supposed to be. This man, these women, were her family – more family than her blood had ever been. For the first time in a very long time, Christmas was special and magical.

Daisy curled up in the chair, her head resting on the side as she sighed in contentment. She’d missed hearing a deep voice reading the Christmas story since Mr. Mason had passed. Hearing it in church wasn’t the same as sitting around the cozy fire, the lights on the tree glowing in the corner.

Beryl wiped at her eyes and nose with her handkerchief as she watched Elsie relaxed and content, settled against Charles’ shoulder. Months ago, she’d been so afraid she’d never see her friend this at ease and happy again. Christmas really was a time for miracles, she supposed. At least in this home it had been.


	39. Chapter 39

New Year’s Eve saw Downton village covered in snow, and found Elsie shivering in her bed. Her fire hadn’t gone out, Charles saw to that, but the wind was blowing so hard, and the temperature so cold, that she didn’t seem to feel its warmth.

Her teeth chattering made her huff as she threw back her covers, barely keeping the squeak of surprise from slipping out as the cold air hit her full force. Her feet wouldn’t fit into her slippers with Charles’ wooly socks, so she hurried out into the hall and down to Charles’ room. It wasn’t much warmer there, though she knew that he slept better cold than she did, but she knew that his bed would be warmer because he was warm.

“Charlie,” she whispered.

Charles was awake immediately and sitting up. “Elsie, what is it? Nightmare?”

“No. Cold,” she managed through chattering teeth.

Charles held up his covers, inviting her in. “Come on then. You climb in and I’ll add a bit more coal on the fire.”

Elsie climbed in, sighing as the warmth enveloped her. She watched in the dim light of the moon through the curtains as Charles hurriedly put coal on the fire and stoked it. Smiling at him when he settled back into bed, she curled up against him. “Thank you.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, Charles rubbed his hand up and down her arm trying to warm her. “Goodness, Lass. You’re freezing. Did your fire go out?”

“No. It’s cold, Charlie, and not all of us are walking stoves.”

Charles chuckled. “Well, I’m happy to be of service, my lady. Your stove shall keep you warm.”

Elsie laughed and nudged him in the ribs. “Charlie, behave, you know what I meant.”

“I do.”

“Have you always been so warm?” Elsie asked as she settled further into his embrace.

“Not when I was a child. Ma always worried I’d freeze to death in the winter. When I turned fifteen things changed and I was always fussing at her for making me have my room too warm.” Charles felt Elsie relaxing further against him. “How did you manage at Downton? The attics could be frigid.”

“A hot brick. Beryl kept it hidden for me and would put it to warm when she sent the last of the girls to bed. She was the only one that ever knew.”

“Why? I know that a few of the hall boys did the same. I think I even overheard Alfred saying he was thankful for the hot brick at the foot of his bed one winter.”

Elsie shrugged. “I suppose I didn’t want them to think me old or weak.”

Charles shook his head and gently squeezed her. “They wouldn’t have, Elsie.”

“Some of them would,” she whispered.

Charles growled. “He’s of no consequence.”

“Charlie?”

“Yes?”

Elsie bit her lip, wondering if she should continue, knowing she had to. “What happened to him?”

“The Dowager found another house for him to serve in.”

“Oh?” she said, her voice gone cold.

“It wasn’t like that, Elsie. She knew what she was doing. The house was that of Lord and Lady Smythe,” was all he said, knowing that Elsie would need no other explanation.

Elsie blinked in surprise. “Really? Oh my,” she breathed.

“Just reward.”

“Mmm,” she agreed.

Settling more comfortably against his pillows, Charles closed his eyes. “Warm enough now?” he asked, changing the subject. The last person he wanted to think about was bloody Thomas Barrow.

“Yes. Nice and cozy. Thank you.” Elsie sighed as she reached for his hand. “Charlie, don’t leave me in the morning. I’ll be okay if I wake up with you.”

“I don’t want to frighten you, Elsie. That’s why I always just get up.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I,” she bit her lip. “Do you think, since it’s winter and I get so very cold,” she paused again.

“I can find you a brick for you bed.”

Elsie shook her head and squeezed his hand. “No. The brick grows cold after a while, and it’s horrible to wake up from a stubbed toe.”

“I’ll do what I can to make sure you stay warm.”

“Do you think I could sleep here?” she asked quietly.

Charles’ eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t. I’ll be glad to share my bed and my warmth with you.”

“Be my stove?” she teased.

“Mmm,” he rumbled as he gave her a tender squeeze.

“It’s a new year, Charlie.”

“It is and we’ve seen it in together.”

Charles heard Elsie yawn. “You’re sure about wanting me to stay in the morning? It isn’t going to trigger a memory?”

Elsie shook her head. “No, Charlie.” She reached up to turn his face down to hers. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, she settled back against his chest. “I never slept like this. Only the corner. He never kissed me or made me lay in his arms. I’m safe here, Charlie.”

Charles, for the first time since he’d found Elsie, was glad that she’d not been made to sleep with the piece of trash she’d been married to. He hated that she’d slept in a corner, but at least knowing that she’d not slept with the man, gave him the comfort of her not being afraid of sleeping in his arms. “I’m glad you can feel that way. I always want you to feel safe with me.”

“Mmm,” she hummed as sleep slowly claimed her. “I always have, Charlie.”

Charles listened to Elsie’s breathing even out. He was still surprised she’d asked to sleep in his bed, but was grateful that she had felt strong enough and comfortable enough to ask. Of course he knew that it was the cold that had prompted it, and thought that when it warmed up a little, she would go back to her own bed, but he was happy to have her next to him for as long as she wished to be. She was his wife, his life now, and anything she wanted he would gladly give her if it was within his capabilities to do so.

Staring into the fire, he watched the flames and thought back to this time last year. He’d been missing Elsie, just as he had for all of the New Year’s Eves since she’d gone, and had sat up until the wee hours drinking the scotch he’d bought just for the occasion. He’d had no idea that only a few short months later, his world would be turned upside down, that he would find his fiery Scottish lass and be married to her come the next New Year’s Eve.

He reached up to touch his lips where the feel of her own soft ones still lingered. He would never instigate the kisses, but he _would_ enjoy them and happily kiss her back.

His eyes slowly closed, a smile tugging up the corners of his mouth.

He was happy this New Year.


	40. Chapter 40

Richard frowned as he stared down at his cards. Was Elsie stacking the deck in her and Charles’ favor? Or were he and Isobel just exceptionally bad at playing Cribbage?

Elsie smirked as she caught the look on Richard’s face which she’d seen mirrored on Isobel’s not a moment ago. Looking at Charles, she saw his satisfied smile and knew that he’d seen their friend’s scowls and realized that they had horrible hands once again.

Isobel huffed as Richard made his move then shook her head and laid her cards down on the table. “I give up.”

Richard nodded as he did the same. “We’re never going to win.” He looked up at Elsie, his grey eyes glaring at her. “Did you stack the deck?”

Elsie quirked an eyebrow at him. “That is Charlie’s specialty, thank you very much.”

“So you’re admitting that someone _has_ stacked the deck?” Isobel asked in surprised humor.

Elsie rolled her eyes as Charles harrumphed. “I did no such thing! I simply stated that Charlie can stack a deck, I can’t.”

“Well, he has dealt a couple of hands.”

Charles shook his head. “Pure luck that we’ve had such good plays.”

“Well, I’ve been beaten enough tonight, thank you.”

Elsie chuckled as she stood. “Tea? Or something stronger to soothe your wounded egos?”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “Behave, Elsie Carson. I’ll come with you to make tea. It will warm us up for the ride home.”

Richard watched the women walk from the room then turned to Charles. Watching as the man concentrated on putting the cards into a neat stack, he reached across and started pulling the pegs from the board. “Charles, has something happened?”

Charles looked up in surprise. “What makes you ask that?”

Richard shrugged. “Something seems different.”

Charles sighed as he stopped what he was doing. Studying the cards, he slowly ran his thumb over the corners. “She’s been sleeping in my bed.”

Richard raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? Did you,”

“No.” Charles shook his head. “Oh no. I would never. She came to me weeks ago during a storm,” his voice dropped. “That bastard used the storms to,” he stopped, not able to continue. “Anyway, she was half awake and nearly laid down on the pallet in the corner, but then she woke up all of the way and stopped herself. I heard her and then the thunder made her cry my name, so I asked her to let me hold her. That was the first time, but since the weather has gone so frigid, and she gets so terribly cold, she’s asked if she could sleep with me until it warms up a bit.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

“I love having her with me, sharing my bed, but I,” he sighed then looked up at his friend. “I’ve so far been able to,” he shrugged. “To keep her from realizing certain things, but Richard, what happens when she feels,” he stopped, looking at his friend helplessly.

Richard understood what his friend was talking about, understood that it was hard for him to articulate. “Charles, you can’t help what your body does in your sleep.”

“But what if,” he looked down as if ashamed of himself. “What if I’m not asleep?”

“You can’t help that, either, Charles. You love her. She’s your wife. You’re only a man.”

“But if I frighten her…” Charles swallowed. “God help me, Richard. If I frighten her it will kill me.”

 

~*~

 

“Elsie, has something changed between you and Charles?”

“Why?”

“I sense a shift. Call it woman’s intuition.”

Elsie fidgeted with the tea cozy. “I’ve been sleeping in his bed,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing.

Isobel reached out and rested her hand on Elsie’s. “And?”

“I slept there a few weeks ago because the storm frightened me. Nightmares, memories,” she whispered.

“Oh Elsie.” Isobel sighed, silently cursing _that man_ once again and hoping he was burning in the lowest pit of hell. “And so you just continued?”

Elsie shook her head. “No. Only one other time when it stormed again. But,” she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Go on.” Isobel encouraged.

“I woke the other night so very cold. Charlie keeps my fire built up because he knows I’m not good with the cold, but it just wasn’t enough. My teeth were chattering and I didn’t know any other way to get warm. Charlie is always so very warm and he’s told me to come to him if I need anything.”

“So you went to him to get warm.”

“Yes. And as I was lying there curled against him, I asked him if I could sleep in his bed until it isn’t so frigid.”

“And have you been?”

“I have. Isobel, I,” she bit her lip. “I feel things when I kiss him, when I’m curled against him, his arms wrapped around me.”

“Fearful things? Or tingly things?”

“Never fearful. I never slept in Connell’s arms or bed, and he wasn’t interested in kissing.”

“So tingly things, then.”

Elsie nodded. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Just let your heart guide you, Elsie.”

“I’ve also felt,” she blushed again and looked down. “I woke up and felt, well…and I was startled and moved away a bit. He’s tried to hide it and keep it from me, I…”

“It’s the natural way of things, Elsie. Men’s body’s always do that, woman that they love in their arms or not.” Isobel rubbed her hand up and down Elsie’s arm. “Were you frightened? Or repulsed?”

“Just a bit startled, and it was only the once. He’s been very successful at keeping me positioned in a way so that I don’t feel anything. I think I was confused more than anything.”

“He can’t control it when he’s asleep. He, I’m sure, does his best when he’s awake, but Elsie, he’s in love with you. You’re his wife, and I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. Holding you in his arms, all soft curves and sweetness, is going to affect him. He’s only a man, a very gentle, caring one, but still – just a man. Have you talked to him?”

“Oh no.” Elsie shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“You could. He is your husband.”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want more? Or at least to try to explore the feelings?”

“I think all I can handle right now is just the kissing.” She gave Isobel a bashful smile. “I enjoy that.”

Isobel smiled as she squeezed Elsie’s hand. “It can be _very_ enjoyable.”


	41. Chapter 41

The snow had melted, and the temperature had become warmer, and still Charles held Elsie in his arms each night. He’d been surprised when she’d slipped into bed beside him the first night after the weather had warmed. It was still cold, but not so cold that a fire couldn’t keep Elsie warm in her own bed.

He enjoyed having her with him, sharing his bed, but it was getting harder to control his body’s reactions and to keep her from feeling his natural morning state.

Dear god, he was only a man!

He was doing his damnedest, but every night she crept closer to him in her sleep, some nights her bottom was pressed into his groin as she spooned against him, and he had to grit his teeth and wait for her to fall asleep, naming every wine he could think of to keep his reaction at bay until he could pull slightly away from her.

He had hoped for a reprieve when the weather warmed, but no such luck, and tonight had just been too much. So, here he sat in his chair in their sitting room, staring into the fire he’d built, wondering what the hell he was going to do.

Asking Elsie to go back to her own bed would hurt her and bring up questions he’d really rather not answer. Pulling his body away from hers in the night had the potential to hurt her as well if she woke, but at the moment it was all he could do.

Taking a sip of his scotch, he rolled his eyes, the woman was everywhere. If he couldn’t be physically with her, taste her as he longed to do, he’d drink the whiskey from her home country.

How had he lost his sanity and not realized it until this moment?

Elsie Hughes had somehow invaded every aspect of his senses – the Scottish witch. He smiled at that, knowing that she’d likely clap him upside his head for that one if she could read his mind.

“Charlie.” Elsie whispered, startling the man from his thoughts.

Charles started, suddenly looking up into the inquisitive eyes of his wife. “Is something wrong? A nightmare?”

Elsie shook her head, moving closer until she was standing between his thighs. Reaching out, she took his drink and downed the fiery liquid in one go then handed the empty glass back to him. She smirked at the look on Charles’ face. “What?”

“You downed that like it was water.”

Elsie shrugged. “I could use another,” she whispered as she reached out to caress the wayward curl from his forehead.

Charles wasn’t sure what to make of what was happening, but he turned in his chair so that he could pour Elsie another bit of scotch from the bottle sitting on the side table. Looking back up at her, he held out the glass, watching with wide eyes as she downed the drink once again. “Elsie? Is something the matter?”

“Yes,” she whispered, feel the liquid courage starting to kick in. “A bit more, please.”

“Elsie, you’ll,”

Elsie shook her head. “No. I don’t get drunk, Charlie.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at that, but turned to do as she asked, once again handing her the glass and shaking his head as she threw it back, swallowing the liquid in one large gulp. “I’d be half smashed by now,” he muttered.

“I do have a problem, Charlie.” Elsie whispered as she reached out to caress his scratchy cheek.

“What is it?”

“I woke up alone. Why did you leave me? Have I done something wrong?”

Charles blinked in surprise. “No, Elsie. You’ve not done anything, at least,” he sighed and looked away from her, shaking his head.

“Does it have something to do with the way your body is in the morning?” she asked hesitantly, thanking the scotch for giving her the bravery to ask such a question.

Charles looked up sharply. “What?” he asked, blinking rapidly in surprise.

“I know you try to keep me from,” she bit her lip and took a deep breath before continuing, “from feeling, but I have.”

Turning his head away from her in shame, Charles wished he’d drank more. “I’m so sorry, Elsie. You weren’t meant to,” he shook his head. “I’m not trying to…I…it’s just…” he struggled then reached out to pour himself another glass of scotch. This time he was the one gulping it down in one go, gasping as the fire burned down his throat.

Elsie stilled his hand when he moved to pour more drink. “No, Charlie,” she told him gently, holding his gaze when he opened his eyes and looked at her. “I understand,” she whispered. “I,” she cleared her throat. “I talked to Isobel because I was confused about what was happening to me, to you, to us. Charlie, when I kiss you, my lips tingle. Where you touch me,” she shrugged. “Well, that tingles, too. I enjoy kissing you, very much, especially when you kiss me back. It hasn’t frightened me, though I can’t say that I’m ready to become your wife all the way, but I do want to kiss you and touch and be touched.”

Setting the glass back down on the table, Charles pulled Elsie even closer until her knees were resting against the chair and rested his head against her, his arms wrapped around her waist. “My brave Elsie. I was so very afraid of frightening you, of making you afraid of me. I couldn’t bear that, Elsie. I couldn’t. My body is in that state in the mornings, and there’s not much I can do, but it isn’t only the mornings I have problems. Holding you in my arms, your soft curves fitted perfectly against me,” he swallowed. “My body reacts and I try my hardest not to react. With you sleeping like you have been, it was too much, I couldn’t,” he shook his head. “Even naming every wine I’ve ever catalogued didn’t help, that’s why I’m out here. I was afraid you would wake and find that I’d pulled away from you and that it would hurt you because you wouldn’t understand why. I had thought that you would go back to your own bed when the weather warmed but,”

“Charlie? Do you want me to go back to my bed? I will if that’s what you want.” Elsie whispered as she combed her fingers through his hair, her body reacting strangely to the vibrations of his words against her.

“Oh no, Lass. That is not what I want at all.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Charlie, does the sound of my voice make you feel strange inside?”

Charles smiled and nodded against her. “My stomach quivers a bit, and my heart beats just a tick faster. Why?”

“That’s what’s happening with your words vibrating against me,” she answered quietly, smiling shyly when he looked up at her.

Taking her hand, Charles gently tugged until she was sitting across his thighs. He smiled at her when she looked up at him. “Maybe I want to cuddle.”

“We can do that in bed. I’m too,”

“Ah!” Charles stopped her and shook his head. “No, you’re not. If you truly don’t want to sit on my lap, I won’t force you, but I rather like it.”

Tilting her head, she reached up to caress his face. “I like it, too. Kiss me?”

Cupping her cheek, Charles caressed her lips with his thumb. “You’re sure?”

Elsie nodded. “Mmm hmm.”

Lowering his head, Charles replaced his thumb with his mouth, sighing into the kiss when Elsie responded. Her lips were soft and supple, pliant against his own as he gently coaxed her into a deeper kiss, paying attention to each little hesitation, trying desperately not to push her too far, and very grateful that she was situated so that she couldn’t feel his body reacting.

Elsie moaned as she pulled back to gasp for air. “Oh my,” she managed as she blinked up at Charles.

“Elsie? Are you alright? Did I,”

Elsie pressed a finger to his lips to stop him. “I’m fine, and no, you didn’t. That was,” she hummed. “Well, Isobel was right.”

Charles quirked an eyebrow at her. “Isobel was right? About what?”

“She said that kissing can be _very_ enjoyable.”

Wrapping his arms tighter around Elsie, Charles squeezed her gently as his laughter rumbled out of him. “Are you trying to pay me a compliment?”

Elsie grinned as she blushed and nodded her head. “I am. After that, I think it’s a very good thing I’m sitting down. My knees feel a little weak. Isobel says what’s happening to me is natural.”

“It is. Just don’t let me do anything you don’t want, okay? If you stop me, I won’t be angry. It’s all going to be you leading me. I won’t force you. When you want more of this, or anything, I’ll be your willing partner.” Charles pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We should go back to bed. Neither of us will appreciate it if we fall asleep in this chair.”

Elsie, her eyes pooled with tears, smiled up at her husband. “I love you, Charles Carson…my oversized teddy bear.”

Charles laughed and carefully stood up with her in his arms. “Come on then. Your teddy bear needs to hibernate for a while.” He kissed her nose. “And I love you, too, Elsie Carson. So very, very much.”

Elsie sighed as she settled against his shoulder for the walk to the bedroom. “Charlie, let me down. You go ahead and get settled. I’ll be right there,” she whispered, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

Charles couldn’t help but chuckle as he sat her easily down on her feet. “Serves you right after downing all of that whiskey.”

Elsie stuck her tongue out at him. “Go to bed.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he mumbled as he gave her a mock bow which earned him a smack.

Elsie laughed as she threw her arms around Charles’ middle. “I love you. I love you.”

Wrapping his arms around her, Charles pressed a kiss to her head. “And I’m a lucky man for it.”


	42. Chapter 42

Elsie sighed, Charles’ slow even strokes with the brush through her hair relaxing her. “Thank you for brushing my hair.”

“You know that I don’t mind. I rather enjoy it.” Charles told her. He did enjoy it, though the color was still a reminder of the hell she’d gone through and still bothered him. Brushing Elsie’s hair was something intimate they could do without fear of triggering a memory. “Why don’t you wear it down around the house? Surely wearing it loose would be more comfortable.”

“It isn’t proper.”

“It’s just us and I rather like seeing you with your hair down.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. Finishing with the last section of hair, Charles set the brush down on the side table and moved to gently tug her up from the chair.

“Charlie, what?” she asked then smiled when he pulled her down onto his lap. “Oh, this,” she breathed as she settled further into his embrace. “I enjoy this.”

Charles smiled as he took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips, pressing a kiss to each fingertip. “So do I, though we don’t get much done.”

Elsie chuckled as she looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “I think we get quite a bit done,” her voice was low as she stared up at him.

“I meant about the cottage, Elsie Carson.” Charles mock scolded, his dark eyes shining.

“Are you saying my housekeeping is lacking, Charles Carson?”

Charles laughed and patted her hip. “No, Elsie, I am not.”

“Then what is it?”

Charles sighed as he pressed another kiss to Elsie’s hand. “I enjoy holding you like this, and kissing you, but I’m always afraid of going too far with as much as we do this. I don’t want to do something that sets you back.”

Elsie smiled at the sweetness and concern of her husband. Lifting their hands, she turned them so that she could kiss his fingers as he’d done hers. “Charlie,” she took a deep breath and held his hand to her chest. “I think I need to tell you everything,” she whispered, both of her hands holding his to steady herself.

“I don’t want to know, Elsie, because it will hurt you to tell me and hurt me to hear it, but if I don’t know,” he swallowed and let his head fall forward to rest against hers. “If I don’t know, I can’t be sure of myself. I won’t know if something I do might be like,” he pressed a kiss to her hair. “I don’t want to be anything like him.”

Elsie wanted to argue that he could never be anything like that man, but she knew what he meant, and knew that he was right. “Hold me tight, Charlie, and don’t let me go.”

“I promise.”

Elsie let her head fall to his shoulder, her eyes closed as she took a deep breath to begin her story. She was safe here, she knew that, but it still didn’t make the telling of things she’d never told any easier.

Charles listened as Elsie told him of the beatings, of the costumes she was forced to wear, of the positions she’d been held in as she was forced to do her wifely duty, of the other obscene things demanded of her. Her voice faltered as she spoke, but she continued on, drawing on his strength to help her. She was so brave as she told him of things that he knew were embarrassing to her. It made him ill to think of the degradation she’d been subjected to, and he wondered if she would ever be able to enjoy being with him intimately.

 

~*~

 

An hour later found Elsie asleep in Charles’ arms after having cried herself to exhaustion. Charles had held her as tightly as he could, whispering words of love, of assurance that she was safe and nothing like that would ever happen to her again.

As Elsie slept, the anger that had built inside Charles as she spoke, roiled and spiraled its white hot fingers of hatred though his veins and around his heart. Not for the first time did he wish that he had killed the man that day in the shop. Beaten the bastard as he begged, as he’d done to Elsie. Then he began to calm, the sweet warmth of Elsie’s breath against his neck reminding him that she needed him with her, not rotting in a grave after being hanged for murder. Alba had taken care of the waste of human flesh, and even though he thought that death by poison was too easy, he still relished in the fact that the man was dead – and smirked as he thought of how the man must have reacted when he realized a mere woman had taken him down.

Nuzzling his nose into Elsie’s hair, he inhaled the soft scent of it, calming even more until he’d relaxed. He didn’t want Elsie to wake and find him so angry, his anger could only serve to frighten her.

Closing his eyes, he turned his mind to the last few weeks, how they’d taken to sitting in this chair at night, the fire burning in the hearth as she initiated the kisses that led to racing hearts and panting breath. He’d even slowly moved his kisses from her mouth to her face and neck, smiling when her breath would hitch and she’d tighten her grasp on his shirt.

Things had gotten so heated one evening that he hadn’t been able to hide his body’s response and she looked up at him, her hand resting on his face as she apologized. He’d told her it was alright, but had spent extra time in the bath that night, relieving himself so that he could sleep. Elsie had been waiting for him, and he wondered if she suspected what he’d been doing, but had shook the thought off as he settled next to her, her soft body curling into his. She’d whispered an apology again as she drifted off to sleep, and he knew then that she’d done more than suspect what he’d been doing – she’d known. Might even have heard him. It embarrassed him but it hadn’t stopped him asking her the next morning if she’d ever been with a man before and she’d shyly admitted that she hadn’t been, though she did know what men got up to without a woman. That admission had him raising an eyebrow and asking how in the world she knew that. She’d blushed and chuckled then reminded him she’d grown up on a farm, and she’d been the housekeeper of a large house for years.

That had brought him up short. What in the world had she seen? He’d asked if any of his boys had been out of line, and she’d shook her head. They were young, and some of them not so discreet, but none of them had done anything wrong, of that she’d been adamant as she explained what she’d seen and heard. Then she’d apologized to him again, told him that she hoped that one day she would be ready for more than kissing so that he wouldn’t have to spend the extra time in the bath. He assured her that there was no need to apologize, that he should have been a bit more discreet and she’d chuckled, her blue eyes twinkling up at him when she’d reminded him that there hadn’t been much chance for that when she’d been sitting on his lap.

All fire and sass, she’d been as she’d snuggled closer and tangled her fingers in his hair and confidently asked him to kiss her and take her breath away. He’d been more than breathless when they’d finished, but the look on her face had been worth it. She was flushed and bright eyed, a smile on her swollen lips, and he’d once again assured her that if kissing was all they ever did, it would be enough.

And he silently made the vow to her now as she slept in his arms, a whimper escaping as what he was sure was a nightmare crept into her sleep. He’d known, and so had she, that nightmares would plague her after dredging up those horrid memories. It was one of the reasons why she’d asked him to hold her and not let go.

“Shh,” he soothed when she tensed in his arms. “It’s just Charlie, Elsie. You’re safe. You’re safe. I’ve got you and he’s dead. No one will hurt you.” Over and over again, he whispered the same things until she settled and whispered his name.

Letting his head fall back against the chair, he closed his eyes to rest a bit, knowing that it was going to be a long evening as Elsie fought with her demons.


	43. Chapter 43

It had taken Elsie nearly three weeks to stop having constant nightmares after confessing everything to Charles. Many times in the night, she’d wake up in a cold sweat, crying out for the torment to stop.

And always, her Charlie was there to hold her. He’d even gotten up and ran her a warm bath and fetched a fresh nightdress on the nights she’d been drenched. While she bathed, he would change the linens on their bed. Those weeks they’d had more laundry than ever, but Charles had helped her, growling gently at her when she would apologize and tell him to let her do it herself because she was the reason for the extra.

Well, now _he_ was the reason for the extra.

She had woke up the night before, not from a nightmare, but because she’d suddenly felt like she was on fire. Touching Charles had felt like touching a burning flame and she’d nearly knocked the lamp to the floor as she’d reached to turn it on. Turning back to her husband, he’d been drenched with sweat and bright red, muttering nonsense in his sleep.

She’d jumped out of bed and rushed to the telephone downstairs, trying her best not to cry as she waited for Isobel or Richard to answer.

Now, here she sat hours later, bathing her dear man’s face with a cool, damp cloth trying to get his fever to go down. Richard had stayed with them most of the night, helping as best he could. The fever had gone down somewhat and he’d left to try and get a bit of rest before going to the hospital. Charles was still muttering nonsense as he tossed about, and she felt hot tears on her cheeks as she bathed his face.

“Damn and blast this influenza,” she cursed quietly before she did something she hadn’t done in a very long time.

She prayed.

A fervent prayer for the man who held her heart.

“Elsie! Elsie, please, don’t leave me. Why did you leave me?” Charles’ voice cried out, interrupting Elsie’s prayer.

“Oh Charlie, I’ve not left ye. I’m right here,” she whispered, her brogue thickening with her worry.

“No.” He jerked away from her touch. “Stop tormenting me in my sleep! You left me! Why? Why? Didn’t you know? Didn’t you know you’d break me if you ever left me?”

Elsie’s tears returned. Her dear sweet man had been tormented by thoughts of her after she’d left. She’d only been thinking of him, trying to protect him, and yet she’d hurt them both more than staying and facing Thomas’ accusations would have ever done. “No, Charlie. I didn’t know. I didn’t. You loved the Crawleys, they were your family, I thought I was protecting you. I love you, Charlie. I only wanted to keep you from being hurt by losing the reputation you’d worked so hard for.” Leaning forward, she pressed a kiss to his fevered brow. “I’m so sorry, my man. So sorry. I’m here, Charlie. I’m not a dream. I’m real.” Bathing his face in between kisses, Elsie hummed softly trying to soothe Charles’ feverish ramblings.

She’d never known how she’d broken him, no one had told her. If only they’d admitted how they felt for one another. If only she’d done what she always had, gently led him to the courage he needed to tell her that he loved her. She hadn’t known of his true feelings for her. She’d known he thought of her as a friend. After her cancer scare, and his singing that song out of his happiness for her good news, she had thought that he felt something more, but then everything had gone back to the way it was.

Until that day at the sea.

Maybe she’d been trying to lead him to admitting how he felt about her, but then maybe she’d just been teasing him.

She had never really understood what possessed her to offer her hand to him, other than she’d been suffering from too much sun.

That had always been the only thing she could think of to explain why she’d thrown propriety to the wind that day. She had been the bloody housekeeper! What in the world had she been thinking, taking off her shoes and stockings and wading in the sea? Well, she could sort of answer that – she loved the sea – though that didn’t explain why she’d lost all sense.

Lost all sense.

That’s what she’d done.

Then she’d dragged Charles along with her.

And look what it got them?

Foolish woman.

Hearing Charles muttering again, she nuzzled his nose with hers. “I’m still here, Charlie. I’m never leaving you again. You married me, remember? You’re stuck with me. I love you. Besides, I would never leave a man that takes such good care of me and has given me such a lovely home and ring. I’m afraid that Mother Carson would haunt me if I did that, now that I know about her.”

“Ma?” Charles whispered, turning his head back toward Elsie. “Ma, have you come for me?”

Elsie felt her heart break. “No, Charlie boy,” she whispered, hoping to sound enough like his mother to soothe him. “It’s not time for you to come home, just yet.”

“But Ma, I miss you.”

“Shh, Charlie boy. I miss you, too, but you must stay with your lass.”

“Mmm, Elsie. Do you like her, Ma? She’s like you.”

Elsie couldn’t go on and just simply murmured something then went back to bathing his face. This fever was playing cruel games with her husband’s mind, and she hoped that he would remember nothing of what he’d said or recall thinking his mother had been here.

If his fever hadn’t gone down in the next hour, she would call Richard again. Charles hadn’t been this bad when he’d had the Spanish flu.

Feeling the water, she snarled. It had gone tepid. “Charlie, I have to go and get fresh water. I’ll be right back. I promise,” she added, hoping that he understood so that he wouldn’t think she’d left him again.

Taking the bowl to the bathroom, she dumped the water then felt herself trembling, the bowl clattering against the sink. She was so very tired, and worried.

And frightened.

Charles was her best friend before anything else and she hated seeing him sick, she always had, but now he was her husband – the most important relationship of all.

They had so much to learn together, so much to do. She wanted to have the chance to be his wife, to _truly_ be his wife. She wanted to hear more stories about his life before she’d met him.

Looking up in the mirror, she saw her tired eyes staring back at her. “Please, God,” she breathed then returned her attention back to refilling the bowl with cool water.

She had a husband to get back to taking care of.


	44. Chapter 44

“Isobel, I need ice. As much as you can get. We have to get this fever down.”

Elsie gripped Richard’s arm. “Am I going to lose him?”

Richard looked at his friend. “If I can’t get the fever down, then, yes. I’m sorry, Elsie.”

Covering her mouth to stop the sob, Elsie shook her head and clasped Charles’ hand to her chest. “You listen to me, Charles Carson. You can’t leave me. I love you and you promised.”

Richard listened as she slipped off into the Gaelic, her thoughts a jumbled mass of confession, regret, fear, and love. He wasn’t even sure Elsie realized that she was no longer speaking in a language Charles could understand. She was doing anything in her power to will Charles to stay with her, and it made him so very grateful to see her fighting and strong. He knew that Elsie and Charles had grown closer, Charles had said as much the last time they talked. He also knew that Charles now knew everything that Elsie had gone through, though Charles hadn’t told him any details – the man would never break Elsie’s confidence even if he’d been asked to. And Richard certainly hadn’t asked. He knew all he needed to, the rest was for Charles alone to know.

“Richard.” Isobel whispered as she came back into the room.

“Yes?”

“I’ve called the house and they’ll bring all the ice we have.”

Richard nodded. “Then help me get him ready.”

Elsie looked up at her friend. “What are you going to do?”

“I need any spare linens or towels you have. I’m going to put ice around him to see if we can’t break the fever.”

“Wouldn’t a cool bath work?” Elsie asked, worried that the ice would be too much.

“Not as fast as it needs to. Besides, the three of us aren’t strong enough to get him there. If he could help, it would be different, but he’s not capable of that right now.” Richard squeezed Elsie’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

Elsie nodded, turning her attention back to Charles. “The extra linens are in the cupboard at the end of the hall.”

Isobel hurried to gather what she could. Her thoughts turning to the anguish that would fill this cottage should Charles not making it through. Elsie had finally gotten back a big part of her fire and strength, but Isobel didn’t know if she was strong enough to survive losing the one man that had rescued her and loved her back to herself.

Arms now full of everything she could carry, she turned and made her way back to the bedroom, realizing as she passed the guest room, that it was now just that – a guest room. None of Elsie’s things were there anymore, telling Isobel that her friend had moved fully and permanently into her husband’s room. And it made her even more certain that Charles’ death would tear Elsie apart.

Richard looked up when he heard Isobel enter the room. “Elsie, can you help us roll Charles so that we can put these under him? We’ll put as many as we can to keep the bed as dry as is possible.”

Elsie nodded as she stood up then bent forward, lifting Charles’ head so that she could wrap her arms around his shoulders. Together they worked to maneuver her mountain of a man until they had as many blankets, linens, and towels under him as they could. She closed her eyes at the heaviness of his head pressed down against her breast, his hot skin nearly burning her own. Bowing her head, she pressed a kiss to his hair. “Please, Charlie,” she whispered before letting him rest back against the pillows.

“I hear a knock. That will be the ice.” Isobel whispered and hurried from the room.

 

~*~

 

No one had been more surprised than Joseph Molesley himself when he’d offered to bring the ice to the Carson cottage. He’d been passing by when the driver had been fussing about with trying to put it in the motor and had asked what was going on. Since he had a truck, he had more room to put the crates, and suddenly he’d been offering to help.

Now, here he was, downstairs in the kitchen of the Carson home, making tea and watching his wife as she made sandwiches. “Thank you, Love, for coming to help.”

Phyllis smiled at up her husband. “You’re a good man, Joseph, and you make wonderful tea. Your sandwiches,” she shrugged.

“I know.” He smiled gently at her then sighed. “Do you think they’ll eat anything?”

“I don’t know. I know that they need to, especially Mrs. Carson, but it will be the doctor or his wife that eats before she does. She’s so very worried.”

“Do you think,” he started, pausing to ponder if he should go ahead with the thought, but his wife knew what he hadn’t said.

“I do.” Phyllis answered the unfinished question. “I think she’s always loved him. They were both just too afraid.”

“Like me.” Joseph whispered.

“Like the both of us, Love. Now,” she placed the last sandwich on the plate. “Everything is done. I’ll help you carry this up to them.”

 

~*~

 

Richard wiped away the moisture from Charles’ forehead, relief filling him when he felt the cooler skin. The fever had finally broke, and without having to make as big of a mess as they’d feared. Extra towels had mopped up the melted ice as quickly as they could to keep from completely soaking the mattress, but he knew that once Charles was coherent enough, they would have to move him to the bed in the guest room.

Elsie heard Charles moan then murmur something and stood up to lean over and kiss his brow. “Yes, Darling. That’s it, wake up and let me see those wonderful dark eyes.”

Charles blinked blearily up at Elsie, his eyes a bit glassy and unfocused. “Elsie?”

“Oh Charlie. I was so afraid,” she whispered, tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks.

“Lass,” he tried then coughed and began to shake.

“We need to move him and get him into some dry, warm pajamas.”

Elsie nodded and hurried to the dresser, pulling out a clean pair of Charles’ bedclothes. Turning around, she closed her eyes, saying a silent thank you before opening her eyes and rushing back to the bed. “Charlie, I need you to sit up. Can you do that for me?”

Charles nodded, groaning then falling back against his pillows. “Did,” he coughed again. “Did I fall?” he managed to ask.

“No, Charles, you didn’t fall. You ache because you have the flu, a very bad case of it.” Richard told him, helping Elsie to get Charles all the way upright. “Now, I’m going to change your pajama shirt. Why don’t you rest your head against Elsie, alright?”

Elsie hurriedly unbuttoned the shirt, then pulled her husband forward. “I’ll have to get a towel for your head. Your hair is soaked,” she whispered as she caressed the mussed curls. “You’ve more curls on your head than I do, Charlie,” she whispered, smiling when he grunted.

Isobel turned when she heard a knock at the bedroom door. Opening it, she smiled at the couple standing on the other side. “Why don’t you take it back downstairs? We’ll be down shortly.” She smiled. “The fever’s broke.”

Phyllis smiled and nodded. “We’ll keep the tea warm. And that’s wonderful.”

Joseph nodded his agreement. “Will he be alright now?”

“He should be. We’ll just pray for no setbacks.”


	45. Chapter 45

“Charles Edward Carson! What do you think you’re doing?”

Charles was so startled by Elsie’s voice that he tumbled back onto the bed, scowling up at her. “Elsie!” he grumped.

“Don’t you Elsie me. Answer my question.” Elsie demanded, her hands on her hips as she stared down her husband.

Charles frowned. “Well what does it look like? I’m getting out of bed.”

Narrowing her eyes, Elsie moved to stand in front of him. “Oh no you most certainly are not.”

“I’ve been in bed for two weeks, Elsie! I’m fine.”

“I know precisely how long you’ve been in bed. I also know that Richard said to keep you there for at least another few days.”

“Elsie, I think I know my own,” Charles started to argue but Elsie interrupted.

“No. Charles Edward Carson you,” her voice cracked and her stance slackened. “Charlie, please? Will you do this for me?” she asked as she looked up at him, blue eyes filled with tears. “I could have lost you. Just do what the doctor says, hmm?”

Reaching out, Charles pulled Elsie to him, wrapping his arms around her as she leaned against him. “Alright, Lass. But, could we compromise? I’ll stay in my pajamas and robe if you’ll let me come down and rest on the settee. I miss you and I’m tired of these four walls.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Elsie pressed a kiss to his head. “If you promise to stay there and not try to do anything.”

“I’ll only get up if I need to.”

Leaning back, Elsie cupped his face. “I’m sorry for startling you, for being so,”

Charles put a finger on her mouth and smiled. “You forget. I like it when you yell at me.”

Elsie smiled and shook her head then moved closer, her mouth covering his. One hand curled around his neck, the other tangled in his hair as she felt him pulling her even further into his embrace. Her heart pounded as she lost herself in the kiss, her teeth gently nipping at Charles lower lip, eyes blinking open in surprise when she felt the tip of Charles’ tongue against her own. “Mmm,” she moaned low in her throat then pulled back, gasping for air. “Charlie,” she breathed, her forehead bumping gently against his.

Charles’ hands moved to rest on her hips as he held her steady, his own body trembling as he did his best to not gulp for air and to calm his heart. “Elsie, did that bother you?” he asked quietly, wanting to make sure that she had only pulled out of their kiss due to the lack of air, not because he’d gone too far.

Elsie’s mouth turned up in a wide smile as she giggled slightly. “Charlie,” she murmured. “Did it sound like that bother me?” she asked, a blush tingeing her cheeks as she thought about the sound she’d made.

Charles’ mouth turned up in its own wide grin at the sound of his wife giggling. He couldn’t ever recall hearing her giggle in all the years he’d known her. And the blush on her cheeks as she asked about her moan – dear lord, the moan. “No, it most certainly didn’t. It sounded like you were enjoying yourself. I just had to make sure.”

Gently massaging his scalp with her fingers, Elsie nuzzled his nose. “Which is what makes you the man I love so very much.”

Patting her hips, Charles winked at her. “Never as much as I love you, Elsie Carson,” he whispered.

Elsie shook her head. “No competing, Charlie,” she chuckled as she leaned down to kiss him again.

Charles hummed into the kiss, enjoying how free she was being with the affection. Not that he was complaining, or ever would, but it was something new. Feeling her tongue gently pushing against his lips, he opened his mouth to let her explore, moaning as she deepened their kiss. She was a quick study it would seem.

Not that he minded.

Not at all.

She was driving him crazy.

Her tongue exploring his mouth.

Her fingernails gently scratching at his scalp.

Her hand working its way under the collar of his pajama shirt.

And the noises she was making.

Dear heaven.

It was good that he was sitting.

Elsie felt one of Charles’ arms move around her waist as the other hand still resting on her hip tightened its grip slightly. She gasped when his mouth moved from hers, to press kisses over her face and then behind her ear.

She blinked as she shivered and moaned.

Well that was new.

“Ooh,” she moaned again when Charles repeated the action. “Charlie, that’s,” she tried then let her hands fall to his shoulders. “Please, Charlie,” she whispered.

“Please what?” he whispered against her skin as he kissed down her neck.

“Do that again,” was her breathy answer.

Charles smiled. So his lady liked that, did she? Moving his kisses back up to the spot behind her ear, he felt her shiver again and smiled at her half gasp, half moan. It would seem he’d found a sensitive spot.

Elsie felt her knees growing week and tightened her hold on her husband.

Dear heaven above.

Who know it could be like this?

Well, Isobel did.

She’d told her kissing could be very enjoyable.

She wasn’t kidding.

Of course she hadn’t warned that it could knock a person off their feet.

Good thing Charlie was holding onto her.

She’d be a heap at his feet if he weren’t.

 

~*~

 

Elsie smiled as she pulled the blanket over Charles’ feet. He’d mumbled and managed to nearly kick it off. She knew he was probably a bit warm, so she hadn’t pulled the blanket up past his waist. Tenderly and lightly, she caressed his face, sighing as she thought about what they’d gotten up to earlier.

Sitting back down in her chair close to the fire, she picked up her knitting.

The kisses they’d shared before today had been nice, and pleasurable, but the kisses today…

Well, now she understood how kissing often led to other things.

Her tongue brushing against his, his tongue gently exploring her mouth, she shivered just thinking about it.

And it had all just _happened_.

As had Charles’ hand sliding down from her waist to the curve of her buttocks.

That had made her moan as much as his kissing just below and behind her ear.

Laird, what that had done to her.

She had felt tingling all over her body at that.

It was as if he’d pushed some sort of button.

A button she’d nearly begged him to push again.

And yet, she felt no shame in it.

It hadn’t unnerved her.

It had exhilarated her.

Made her feel alive.

Made her want more.

And he’d given her more.

Until he’d stopped and smiled up at her, gently assuring her that he was enjoying their kissing, but they’d best stop before they got too carried away.

Too much, too soon, he’d warned.

And she’d taken a deep breath, nodding her agreement.

Her body was getting ahead of her mind but she knew that her mind would catch up.

And if they’d gone too far – well, thankfully Charles had kept his head.

Though how, she had no idea.

She rolled her eyes.

Oh yes she did.

He’d been drawing on the control he’d used as a butler.

Damn him, she silently cursed – a smile on her lips as she shook her head.

Bless him.

Yes.

Bless him for loving her so completely.


	46. Chapter 46

Elsie smiled as she watched Charles outside the kitchen window. She wasn’t sure how in the world it had happened, but her husband was currently outside building a snowman with Daisy and her chap.

Beryl watched her friend, noticing the easy smile on her lips. “I can’t believe he’s out there with those two. It’s so cold.”

Elsie shrugged. “The cold doesn’t really bother Charlie. He’s always warm.”

Beryl’s eyebrows raised at that. “Oh is he now.”

“Mmm hmm. Very warm.” Elsie’s voice dropped then she realized what she’d said and turned to frown at her friend. “Beryl Patmore!”

Beryl smirked as she chuckled. “Don’t yell at me. You were the one lost in dreamland.”

“You were the one that took advantage.” Elsie countered.

Beryl shrugged. “How else is a woman supposed to learn things?”

“Oh!” Elsie huffed.

Beryl smiled and patted her friend’s arm. “I take it you haven’t moved back into your room.”

Elsie shook her head. “I don’t have a room of my own anymore,” she whispered.

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Wonderful. Beryl, he’s,” Elsie bit her lip and looked back out the window. “I want to be his wife, Beryl,” she admitted quietly.

“You are his wife, Elsie.”

“Legally. On paper. But not,” Elsie paused, a blush heating her cheeks. “Not the way that I want to be, the way that he deserves.”

“Elsie.” Beryl said her name, gently tugging on her hand to get Elsie’s attention focused back on her. “He didn’t rescue you and marry you for anything more than that he loves you. I know that he’s told you he doesn’t expect anything in return.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve it.” Elsie whispered. “But it’s not that. It’s me. _I_ want this. I love him, Beryl.”

“But are you ready?”

“I told him everything.” Elsie told her friend quietly.

Beryl was surprised at that. “ _Everything_?”

Elsie nodded. “I realized that if we were ever to move beyond kissing, Charles needed to know. He told me that he didn’t want to know, but that he had to so that he wouldn’t do anything that would frighten me. I had nightmares after, but it’s made me feel freer. It’s made things easier between us.”

“I’m glad you shared with him.” Hugging Elsie, Beryl sighed, “I’m so happy you’re happy, Elsie.” Pulling back before she started crying, she looked out the window. “Don’t you think we should call them in?”

Elsie nodded. “Charlie shouldn’t even be out there, really. It’s not been that long since he was sick.”

“I’ll fix some hot chocolate while you go call them in. Overgrown kids,” she muttered.

Elsie laughed and nodded. “He wants to make sure Daisy grows even more comfortable around him. He enjoyed Christmas and her asking questions and listening to his stories.”

“She enjoyed that, too. She’s missed Mr. Mason more than I realized. He was always telling her stories of his youth, of young William. He taught her more than anyone ever has.”

“You taught her, too. You’ve been a mother to that girl, all yelling and blustering aside.”

Beryl laughed and shooed Elsie out. “Go on. Don’t forget your coat.”

Elsie rolled her eyes. “You’re as bad as Charlie!”

 

~*~

 

 

Charles sipped at the hot liquid. He had been slightly chilled when they’d come in, but mostly the drink satisfied his sweet tooth. “Just perfect,” he murmured.

Beryl rolled her eyes. “It’s sweet, you mean.”

Elsie laughed and winked at Daisy who giggled behind her hand. “Now, Beryl.”

“Don’t now Beryl me. You know he has a sweet tooth as well as Daisy does.”

Daisy nodded and blushed when Charles winked at her. “I do. I used to see him sneaking biscuits from the tin hidden in the kitchen.”

Charles shrugged when Elsie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who do you think hid the tin?”

Daisy laughed at that. “I thought Mrs. Patmore had!”

Beryl frowned. “I did have a tin hidden. Elsie knew where it was.”

“I did.” Elsie agreed. “But I also knew Charles had one hidden. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alfred were to tell us he’d seen the tin, considering he’s tall enough to have seen where Charles had it hid.”

“He did know where it was.” Charles admitted with a smile. “I found him in it one night.”

“What is it, Darling?” Elsie asked when she noticed the faraway look that crossed his face.

Charles smiled as he reached out to squeeze Elsie’s hand. “I was just remembering finding another lad in the tin in the middle of the night.”

Daisy snuggled closer to her beau. “William,” she whispered.

“Yes. William.” Charles answered. “He had come down for a glass of milk. He’d always been a tall lad, but it seemed as if he’d grown as tall as me overnight. I hadn’t known, but he was always down in the kitchen at that time of night for a glass of milk.”

“I knew.” Elsie whispered.

“I suspected as much.” Charles smiled at her. “This night, I’d been up late because I couldn’t seem to get the figures in my ledger to agree with Elsie’s. I was scowling down at a particularly stubborn column when I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I thought perhaps it was Elsie, imagine my surprise to find one of my footman not only out of bed, but eating biscuits out of the tin I’d stashed away.”

Daisy smiled. “He told me about that in one of his letters during the war. It was one of his favorite memories.”

Elsie saw the tears welling in her husband’s eyes and took his hand again. “He was quite the boy, our William.” Looking back over at Daisy, she smiled at the young man sitting next to her. “He would like you, David.”

“Thank you. I don’t hear many stories about him, but the few I have heard, tell me he must have been a wonderful fellow.”

“He was.” Charles finally managed to speak. “I agree with my wife. He would like you. You have a few of the same things in common.” Looking at Daisy, he smiled at the young woman. “Mostly your love of our Daisy.”

Daisy sniffed as she stood up and moved to stand beside where Charles sat. “Thank you, Mr. Carson,” she whispered as she leaned over and hugged him.

Elsie smiled across at Beryl, both of them thinking the same thing.

They knew exactly who would be giving Daisy away…again.

 

~*~

 

Charles sighed as he held Elsie close. “Today was a good day.”

“Yes, it was.” Elsie agreed as she nuzzled his neck. “Tonight has been a good night, too,” she whispered as she titled his head down to hers. “Charlie?”

“Yes?”

Biting her lip, Elsie let her eyes fall from his and fidgeted with one of the buttons on his pajama shirt. “When we kiss, don’t hold back. Let’s just try and see how it goes, please?”

Charles covered her hand to still its restless movements. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Elsie nodded and looked back up at Charles. “I want this very much.”

Caressing her cheek with his thumb, Charles smiled. “I want this very much, too,” he whispered.

Elsie smiled as she slid her hand up and around his neck, drawing him closer until her lips were touching his. She knew that she would always have to be the one to initiate anything intimate, Charles had promised her that, and it gave her a sort of shy confidence. She also knew that he would slowly take control if she wanted him to, somehow sensing the little shifts in her mood as they kissed.

Charles hummed his pleasure when Elsie’s fingers tangled in his hair. No matter how many times she did that, he would always be affected by it. Opening his mouth, he let Elsie explore, moaning when her tongue moved against his, signaling him to take control of their kisses. As he slowly took control, he let his hand begin to gently wander over the soft curves that often enticed him at night in their bed.

Elsie shivered as she let her head fall back, Charles’ kisses moving along her jaw and down her neck. The feel of his hand moving over her body had her griping his arm, moaning and squirming against him.

And she had thought kissing did crazy things to her body.

Dear laird above.


	47. Chapter 47

Charles laid a hand over Elsie’s, stopping her from fussing with his tie. “Are you sure, Elsie?”

Elsie smiled and gently patted his chest. “I am. I’ve stayed relatively secluded here in our cottage, only venturing out some times to make a few purchases in the village. I think it’s time we got involved in the goings on.”

Charles nodded then frowned. “But a village dance? In a barn?”

Elsie laughed and tugged at him so that he bent down enough for her to press her lips to his. “Oh Charlie. You forget. I grew up on a farm. We had dances in barns a lot. Those were happy times.”

“You enjoyed them?”

“I did,” she nodded, pulling her hand from under his to finish fixing his tie. “Now, your tie is straight but my dress isn’t buttoned all the way, would you help me?”

Charles smiled at her then gently turned her around. “Did you often have dances in the winter? This seems an odd time for one.”

“The barns are warmed. Besides, this is for a special occasion.”

“A wedding.”

“Yes. Little Andrew Jenkins.”

“Not so little if he’s getting married.” Charles murmured cheekily.

“Don’t be cheeky.” Elsie scolded playfully as she moved to stand in front of the mirror. Tucking a hair back up into its pins, she smoothed out her dress, then grabbed her hat.

Charles watched as Elsie placed her hat on her head just so before pinning it in place. “You’re beautiful, Lass. You’ll be the envy of all of the women there.”

Elsie wrinkled her nose at him. “Oh, get away with you. If I’m the envy of the women, it will be because I managed to snag the great Charles Carson, turning the bachelor into a married man. Many of the single women in the village had their eyes on you.”

Charles huffed. “Do be serious, Elsie.”

Elsie chuckled as she walked back to where he stood. “I am, Darling. I heard the murmurings, the whispers.”

“Surely they knew that butlers do not marry.”

“Ah, but many of them thought that if you married a woman outside of the house, it would be permitted.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “If I had married while butler, it would have been you and no one else. Silly women.”

Elsie smiled and caressed his face. “Thank you for that, Charlie. Now, shall we go?”

Moving her hand to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to the palm. “And you’re really sure?”

“I am. Just don’t let me go.”

“I’ll keep your hand in my as long as you want it.”

 

~*~

 

Richard smiled as he spun Isobel around. “Elsie’s having fun. I didn’t realize she was such a good dancer. I don’t know if Charles will be able to keep up with her.”

Isobel laughed as Richard spun her around again so that she could see their friends. “I don’t know. It looks like he’s doing a good job so far.”

Richard nodded. “I suppose he is. I’m glad to see her out and about. So far I haven’t noticed any problems.”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “Of course not. With a big bear of a man scowling down at anyone that even acts like they’re going to be a problem, who would try anything?”

Richard chuckled and patted his wife’s hip. “He is very protective. Of course, Beryl’s been doing her fair share and so have we.”

“Do you think they will play a reel? I would love to see you and Elsie dancing something from home.”

“I don’t know if they will or not. Depends on the musicians.”

“Elsie told me that dancing brought back good memories from home.” Isobel whispered as she watched Charles lead Elsie off the dance floor over to the drinks table. “I’m glad she has happy things to remember about home. Do you think she’ll ever want to go back to Scotland?”

“It’s in our blood, Isobel, just as England is in yours. She’ll go back some day. Not necessarily to Argyll, and definitely not to that God forsaken burgh she lived in for three years of hell, but somewhere. Maybe some time we could invite them to go with us.”

“You’re a good man, Richard Clarkson.” Isobel whispered, her brown eyes soft as she looked at her husband.

Richard shrugged as they clapped for the song then made their way over to join their friends. “Only doing what any friend would do.”

Isobel leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Remind me to show you later how very much I adore you for that.”

Richard raised an eyebrow and squeezed her hand. “Behave, Mrs. Clarkson.”

Isobel just simply grinned at him and moved off to talk to Elsie.

Richard shook his head as he accepted two glasses of punch. His wife was something else.

 

~*~

 

Elsie sighed as she let her head rest on Charles’ chest. The dance had been lovely, and she’d not wanted to stop even after they’d returned home. “Mmm, Charlie. I like this dance.”

“I do, too, though I think we’d scandalize the whole of the village if they saw us dancing like this.” Charles whispered against her hair.

“Oh, most definitely. We’ll keep it our little secret.”

“It’s a good thing, too. They’d not only be scandalized by how close we are, but they would think we’ve gone a bit mad dancing with no music.”

Elsie snuggled closer. “Then sing to me.”

“And what would my lady like to hear? Hmm?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Charles held Elsie a bit closer as he searched his mind for a song. Smiling when a song he’d heard on the wireless just before leaving Downton came to mind. He hadn’t heard the whole song, just the chorus, but it was enough.

Elsie heard the words, felt the rumbling of the melody against her ear, and felt tears fill her eyes. Her man was a romantic when he wanted to be. She hadn’t heard the song he was singing to her, but it was beautiful and perfect for them.

They had both always been there for the other when things hadn’t gone how they’d hoped. When she would have died, Charles had found her – had just been there. And now here they were. Married and working on becoming so much more to each other than they’d ever been.

“That’s beautiful, Charlie.”

“I heard it once on the wireless before leaving Downton. It stuck with me.”

“I like it.” Elsie pulled back and looked up at Charles. “Charlie?”

“Hmm?”

“Take me to bed.”

“Elsie?”

Elsie nodded. “I think,” she took a deep breath. “I think I’d like to try going a little farther than we have.”

Charles caressed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You lead and I’ll follow,” he whispered.

Pressing a kiss to his thumb, Elsie gasped when he lifted her into his arms. “I didn’t mean literally, Charlie!”

Charles smiled. “Say what you mean, Lass.”

Elsie shook her head then laid it on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh you daft man, how I love you.”

Setting Elsie gently on her feet by their bed, Charles looked down into her upturned face. “Let me help you out of your dressing gown,” he whispered.

Elsie nodded and turned, pulling the sash to loosen the knot holding the garment closed. Shivering when Charles slowly helped her out of it, she turned and watched him lay it across the foot of the bed. When he looked back at her, she smiled. “May I?” she asked, pointing at his robe.

“Of course.” Charles answered in a voice a bit lower than his usual timbre.

Elsie shivered at the tone. His voice did things to her insides, if she were honest with herself, it had always caused a reaction, but now it was different – a different she fully intended to explore. “That’s dangerous, Charlie,” she murmured as she took his robe and placed it over hers.

Charles frowned. “What is?”

“The way you lowered your voice.” She shivered. “It does all sorts to me,” she admitted quietly.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he pulled back the blankets, letting her climb into the bed then settling beside her. “Comfortable?” he asked as he propped his head up on his hand and looked down at her.

“I am.” Elsie smiled as she lifted her hands, curling her fingers around his neck. Humming her pleasure when their lips met, she closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the kiss as she seemed to do now days. Letting a hand fall from his neck, she searched for his free one. Pulling out of the kiss, she held Charles’ gaze as she cupped his hand under her breast.

Charles’ eyes widened as he felt the fullness in his hand. So far in their explorations, he hadn’t actually done more than just move his hand over her curves. The soft weight in his hand now, caused him to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning and to try and control himself. Keeping his focus on Elsie, he moved his thumb, brushing against the nipple that responded to the touch.

Elsie gasped and blinked then used her hand to encourage Charles to continue. Keeping her hand over his, she tried desperately to control her breathing, her heart feeling like it would beat out of her chest. “Charlie,” she breathed.

“I’ll stop.”

“No. Oh no.” She shook her head, her hand pressing into his. “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.”


	48. Chapter 48

Charles continued to touch Elsie, her sounds encouraging him and letting him know she was enjoying his caress. Moving his hand from her breast, he skimmed his fingers over her ribs, pausing on her hip before moving to gently cup a firm, rounded buttock.

Elsie’s breath caught when Charles gently squeezed her buttock, then slide down over the curve to her thighs, slowly bunching her nightdress up in his hand. Keeping her eyes closed, she tried desperately to control her breathing, but the feel of Charles’ hand against her bare skin made her gasp and grip his arm, her fingernails digging into the muscled flesh. “Charlie,” she panted.

“Easy, Elsie. Do you want me to stop?” he asked as he hesitated, waiting to make sure she was still alright.

“No. Please. I’m okay,” she managed after several gulps of air, her hand moving to clutch at his, urging him to continue moving.

Moving his hand further up, he stopped when her nightdress was gathered around her waist. Closing his own eyes, he reveled in the feel of the silky smoothness of his wife’s skin. “You’re so very soft, Elsie,” he whispered. Opening his eyes, he watched her face in the dim light of the fire, the glow making it difficult for him to see the flush of her cheeks and neck. Watching her expression, he continued to caress over her buttocks and thighs, his fingers inching a bit under the material of her nightdress to feel the dip of her waist.

Elsie turned onto her back and looked up at Charles. “More,” she whispered.

Charles slowly let his hand wonder to her stomach, his thumb caressing a circular path around her navel before moving up and over her ribs. Slipping his hand higher under the nightdress, he gently cupped her breast, humming his pleasure. She was everything a man, this man, could ever want in a woman. Soft, toned, curvy – all of it. Flicking his thumb over the taut nipple, he smiled when Elsie hummed and pushed herself further into his hand. “Like that?” he asked.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Very much.”

Moving his hand to the other breast, he repeated the actions, leaning over to press a kiss to Elsie’s mouth when she moaned his name. Their kiss grew heated as he continued to touch her, slowly and carefully moving his caress lower.

Elsie lurched and pulled from the kiss, shaking her head and trying desperately to get away. “No. Stop. Please, I,”

Charles immediately moved his hand away from Elsie, resting it on his hip. “I’m sorry, Elsie. Easy. We’ll stop now. I think we got a little too carried away.”

Elsie rolled onto her side, burying her face against Charles as she began to cry. “But it felt so wonderful,” she whispered. “I want this, Charlie. I _want_ it.”

“I want it too, Elsie. Not just for my own needs, but because you deserve to know the pleasure a man can give a woman when he loves her and takes the time. I want you to know that a husband can give as much as he takes in bed. But, Elsie, I don’t want that if it causes this. If we only ever kiss and touch a bit, that will be enough. I love you.”

Elsie moved back and reached for Charles’ hand. Bringing it to her lips, she kissed the tips of his fingers, the back of his hand, then turned it over and placed a lingering kiss to the palm. “Thank you for trying and for being so very patient and understanding,” she whispered as she looked at his hand. “So large and strong, but when you touch me they’re soft and tender. How is it that hands so big can show more tenderness than a hand weaker and smaller?”

“Because the man that owns the hands would never do anything to hurt you. The man loves you. It’s the man, Elsie. He was evil in heart and mind, Lass. No matter who it was, his touch would always have been the same. To hurt and try to destroy No tenderness, no love. He didn’t know the meaning of the words.”

Elsie looked up at her husband, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. “I always knew beneath that gruff butler mask was a man with a very tender heart.”

“My heart hasn’t always been very tender, Elsie, but I would never hurt another without due cause.”

Elsie nodded. She knew what he was talking about. She knew that he’d nearly strangled Connell to death before he’d realized what he was doing and stopped himself. Turning onto her side, her back facing Charles, she snuggled against him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Charles whispered as he held her close, pressing a kiss to her head. “We’ll try again whenever you like. I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

Elsie smiled and nodded. “Mmm, I remember. I want to keep trying until I’m okay with it all.”

“As long as it takes.”

“Could be fun,” she whispered.

Charles chuckled and gently squeezed her. “Most definitely fun.”

“Charlie?”

“Yes?”

“Tomorrow night, maybe I could touch you?”

“You can touch me whenever you like, Elsie, but you’re right. Maybe it would be good for you to touch me. That way you can see what your touch does to me and become familiar with my responses so that they don’t startle you.”

“Well I already know one response,” she murmured as she pressed back against him.

“Elsie Carson.” Charles growled as he rested his hand on her hip. “How is it that doesn’t frighten you?”

Elsie shrugged. “Because you’ve never tried to do anything, and have done everything you could to keep me from feeling it. I’m just sorry to leave you in such a state so much.”

“Don’t you worry about that. We’re going to concentrate on you first. Once I’ve given you pleasure, then we’ll worry about mine.”

Reaching back, she clasped his hand, her fingers twining with his as she pulled his arm around her. “Good night, Darling. Thank you for loving me.”

“You’re very welcome, though you don’t have to thank me. Loving you is my pleasure.”


	49. Chapter 49

Charles, naked from the waist up, rested against his pillows – his body trembling as he tried desperately to contain his reactions to Elsie’s touches. Her hands were currently learning his torso, soft palms and searching fingers learning every inch. When she moved her touch to his biceps, he flexed the muscles, smiling when she grinned up at him.

“Showing off, Darling?”

Winking at her, he shrugged. “Of course not, Love.”

Elsie laughed then went back to exploring, feeling the muscles of his chest ripple beneath her palms. Biting her lip, she hesitated then traced lightly around a flat nipple, blinking up at Charles when he sucked in a breath then hissed it out. “Charlie?” she whispered.

“I’m fine, Elsie. Do it again,” he encouraged her.

Moving to the other nipple, she repeated the action, watching his face as she did so. His breath hitched again, his eyes closed and she heard a murmured, “Yes, just like that,” when she did it again. Moving up, she leaned over him and pressed her mouth to his. “Charlie,” she whispered against his lips.

“Yes?” he managed between kisses.

“Take my nightdress off.”

Charles gently pushed her back and stared up at her. “Are you sure?”

Elsie nodded. “Yes. Just,” she bit her lip. “Your pajama trousers…”

“If you want us to both be naked, then that’s what we’ll do. Do you want me to take my trousers off first?”

“Please,” she answered breathlessly. Sitting up, she watched as Charles wiggled himself out of the rest of his clothes, her eyes slowly moving over the rest of his body. She’d seen a naked man before, even before she’d been taken by Connell, but none compared to her man. She took her fill before looking up at him. “Because of me?”

Charles nodded. “Yes.”

Smiling she sat up and moved closer to him. “Off,” she whispered as she pointed at her night dress.

Slowly unbuttoning the buttons at her throat, Charles kept his eyes on Elsie’s face, making sure she was okay as he slowly began to lift the material up her legs. Raising an eyebrow at her when he came to her knickers, he watched as she blushed and nodded her head in answer to his silent question. Once she’d settled back on the bed, he continued lifting the soft material of her nightdress. Pausing before lifting it completely over her head, he watched as her eyes closed and she took a deep breath before whispering, “Please, Charlie,” to encourage him to finish what he’d started. Dropping the garment on the end of the bed, he looked back at her and caught his breath. She was stunning in the light of the fire. “Beautiful,” he breathed.

Looking up at her husband, Elsie saw nothing but love in his eyes and took a calming breath. Reaching out, she touched his leg, sliding her hand up to his thigh as she scooted closer. “I think I’d like for us to try again,” she whispered.

Charles didn’t question her, just helped her settle into his lap, her legs resting on the bed on either side of him. “We’ll go slow.”

Elsie nodded as she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Touch me.”

“I’m going to touch you where I started to a few nights ago. I want to give you pleasure, but if you don’t want me to, tell me.”

Closing her eyes, Elsie took a deep breath. “I need you, Charlie.”

Slowly, and with a light touch, Charles caressed Elsie’s body, lifting a breast so that he could press tender kisses to the soft fullness before suckling a taut nipple into his mouth.

“Charlie!” Elsie gasped, her hands sliding up to cup his head, fingers tangling in his hair.

Charles looked up and smiled in satisfaction to see Elsie’s head thrown back, her face relaxed, eyes closed. Lowering his head, he turned his attention to the other breast, his hands sliding up her legs, one hand resting on her hip, the other moving to touch her at the apex of her thighs. He felt a slight jump, but the whimper that accompanied the action let him know she was okay. Keeping his mouth occupied with her breasts, he gently moved his fingers over the sensitive flesh of her center, listening for any sounds of distress.

Elsie’s fingers tightened in Charles’ hair as she felt her heart begin to pound in her head. The muscles in her stomach clenched with each move of Charles’ fingers against her lower body, and the sounds coming from deep in her throat sounded foreign to her own ears. She’d never felt anything so strange yet wonderful before in her life. She could feel a tingling sensation spreading over her as if her body were going to sleep, but yet she was feeling more alive than she ever had. “Charlie, I,” she whimpered as she felt her body go rigid.

“Just let it happen, Love. It’s alright.” Charles whispered his encouragement, watching as she came undone, words he didn’t understand falling from her lips as her back arched, and her fingernails dug into his scalp.

Elsie collapsed against Charles, her head on his shoulder, body damp with a fine sheen of sweat. “What the bloody hell did you do to me?” she wondered dazedly.

Charles spluttered then laughed a great roaring belly laugh as he held Elsie close and pressed kisses to her head. “Pleasure, Love. That’s what it is.”

“Mmm, it was wonderful,” she hummed as she squirmed against him. “And what about you?”

“Remember, we’re going to concentrate on your pleasure.”

Elsie sat up and cupped his face. “I want more.”

Charles held her gaze as he carefully maneuvered her into the right position and slowly began to slide inside her. Keeping a watchful eye on his wife, he paused when she gasped. “Elsie?”

Elsie moaned and let her forehead bump against his. “Just give me a moment,” she murmured then bit her lip.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Elsie shook her head. “Laird no,” she whimpered. “More.”

Moving again, Charles moaned, feeling her inner muscles fluttering around him as he stopped fully inside her and waited. “Wrap your legs around me, Elsie,” he whispered as he gently tapped her thighs.

Elsie did as he said and moaned. “I,” she bit her lip. “It’s so different.”

“Because you were ready and I’m giving not taking,” he whispered against her neck, his hands on her hips, gently guiding her to begin moving against him. Slow and unsteady at first, the movements weren’t fluid or rhythmic, but it didn’t matter – all that mattered was that she was enjoying herself. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Elsie breathed as she tried to concentrate on picking up the rhythm of Charles’ movements against her.

“That’s it, Love, just like that.” Charles whispered, his hands moving up her back, pressing her against him. Humming his pleasure at feeling her breasts against his chest, he concentrated on encouraging her to keep himself in control.

He wasn’t sure he was going to succeed.

Dear god he’d wanted her for so long.

Wanted this.

Wanted to feel her warmth surrounding him.

Wanted to feel the soft curves of her pressed against his more solid frame.

Covering her mouth with his, he pressed his tongue between her lips, moaning at the taste of her.

Scottish lass bested scotch whiskey any time.

 

~*~

 

Elsie rested limply against Charles, her body curled into his. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been like this, she’d lost track of time after she’d cried out Charles’ name and a few things in Gaelic she was very thankful her husband couldn’t understand.

She’d be mortified if he knew.

Though she hadn’t known what she was doing, her body had just simply taken over, loosed her tongue and any control she had over her mind and the power of speech.

She could still feel slight tremors moving through her body, and marveled at how languid she felt.

How utterly boneless was the better description, she thought to her self.

Charles drew his finger down Elsie’s spine. “Are you alright, Elsie?”

“Mmm hmm,” she murmured, suddenly realizing she was crying.

“But you’re crying, Lass.”

Finding his free hand, she twined their fingers together and sighed. “So I am. I just now realized it.”

“If you’re fine, why the tears?”

“Because,” she started then bit her lip, puzzling out how to explain. “Because of you. You took your time with me. Guided me. Made sure that I had pleasure before yours. The way you touched me, loved me…Charlie, you made me feel wonderful.” Moving to look up at him, she gave him a radiant smile. “You gave me something that I’d begun to fear had been taken away from me forever. Thank you.”

“I love you, Elsie.”

Settling back against his chest, Elsie sighed in contentment. “I’m truly your wife now. No more nights of you being,” she shrugged. “Well. No more, anyway. No more of me being frustrated with my body, either.”

Charles laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep now, Elsie.”

“Love you, Charlie,” she murmured, relaxing into slumber, the humming of her body finally quieted enough to rest.


	50. Chapter 50

Elsie wiped at the tears on her cheeks as she watched Charles escorting Daisy down the aisle of the church. He was doing his best to keep from beaming with pride, but so far he was losing the battle. Daisy had become something of a regular visitor at the cottage the last few months, having shown up on their door one day when the weather had decided to be relatively nice for winter. Her smile had been as bright as the sun and she’d been fairly dancing with glee as she’d walked through the door then threw her arms around Elsie.

_“Oh Mrs. Carson!” Daisy gasped._

_“What is it, Daisy girl?”_

_Daisy pulled back and grinned as she tugged off her left glove and held out her hand. “He asked me, Mrs. Carson!”_

_Elsie smiled and took the girl’s hand to inspect the ring. “It’s a lovely ring. I’m very happy for you and your lad. Now why don’t you take your coat off and go through and tell Mr. Carson so he doesn’t wonder what the noise is all about.”_

_Daisy nodded as she shrugged out of her coat. “Mrs. Carson?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Do you think,” Daisy started the looked down and fidgeted with her ring._

_“Ask him, Lass.”_

_Daisy nodded then rushed off to the sitting room, bumping into Charles who was coming out to see what was going on. “Oh,” she gasped. “Sorry, Mr. Carson.”_

_Charles held Daisy’s arms to steady her, sure that if he let go she’d fall backward. “What’s all the hurry?”_

_Daisy smiled up at the man she’d once been afraid of. “This,” she whispered as she held up her left hand._

_Charles looked at her hand and gave her a puzzled look. “What’s so important about your hand? Have you done something to it?” he asked, somehow managing to keep a straight face._

_Daisy scowled. “Mr. Car,” she started then noticed his lips twitch. “Mr. Carson! That is not funny. You mustn’t tease.”_

_“Sorry.” Charles winked at her. “It’s a lovely ring. So your lad has asked for you hand. Did he do it properly?”_

_Daisy nodded. “He asked Mrs. Patmore if it would be alright.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Mr. Carson?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“When I married William, you,” she started then began twisting the ring around her finger. “But I didn’t ask, it was just accepted that you would and I,” she chewed on the inside of her cheek some before looking up at the man that had come to mean so much to her. “Would you give me away to David?”_

_Charles felt his eyes mist as he pulled the young woman into a hug. “I’d be as honored as I was the first time, more so I suppose since you asked. I’ve grown very fond of you, Daisy.”_

_Elsie came into the room with tea just as Daisy was wiping her cheeks. “I take it he said yes?”_

_Daisy nodded as she sniffed. “He did, but you knew that he would.”_

_“I did.” Elsie winked and began pouring tea. “Sit and warm yourself.”_

_Daisy took the tea and sat in the chair by the fire. “Mrs. Carson?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Would you help me with my dress? Mrs. Patmore’s the best there is in the kitchen, but,” she shook her head. “She’s a right lousy seamstress.”_

_Elsie laughed at the look on the young woman’s face. “I’ll help you pick the material and the design, but we’ll leave the actual making to Mrs. Molesley. I’ll gladly do all of the flower arranging if you’d like. I’m sure Mr. Molesley will be happy to provide us with whatever you want.”_

Wiping one last tear from her cheek, Elsie listened as the young couple exchanged their vows, her hand moving to clasp Charles’. Daisy had grown so much in the years since she’d last been married.

She wasn’t the only one that had changed.

All of the people here at the wedding had changed.

She and Charles more than most she supposed.

 

~*~

 

“Grammy!” Elsie May called out when she caught sight of Elsie at the party after the wedding.

Elsie smiled and bent down to catch the tot in her arms as she ran toward her. “Hello, my wee lassie,” she said as she lifted the little girl up, hugging her and smiling at the feel of two little arms wrapped around her neck.

“Oh Grammy, I’s missed you!” Elsie May said as she patted Elsie’s cheeks.

“I’ve missed you too, my wee lamb.”

“Did you see me with the flowers, Grammy?”

“I did. You did a very good job. Such a big girl.”

“Mummy made my dress.”

“And it’s a very beautiful dress. Did Mummy put the flowers in your hair, or did Poppy do that?”

Elsie May giggled and looked at her father. “Poppy can’t do hair, Grammy! He makes a mess!”

Elsie laughed and winked at John. “He makes a mess, does he? Hmm. Maybe it’s more to do with a certain wee lassie not holding still.”

John winked at his daughter. “I think Grammy has you figured out, Love.”

Elsie May wrinkled her nose. “Poppy.”

Anna laughed and leaned in to Elsie to give her a hug. “It’s good to see you. You look wonderful.”

“I feel wonderful, Love.” Elsie smiled when she heard her name being called by another little voice. “Oh, I didn’t realize they’d made it in.”

Anna turned to look in the direction Elsie was looking and smiled. “My how she’s grown.”

“Yes, she has.” Elsie whispered.

John held out his arms and took Elsie May just as Sybie stopped in front of Elsie. Watching as the little girl stared up at Elsie, he blinked in surprise as a tear rolled down her cheek, and wondered what was going through her mind.

Elsie bent down and wiped at the tear. “Lassie, why the tears?”

“I missed you. I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Oh Miss Sybie.” Elsie hugged the girl and looked up at Tom.

“Hello, Mrs. Carson.” Tom whispered. “She’s been so excited to see you. More than anyone, really. I didn’t realize this would happen.”

Sybie leaned back and placed a kiss to Elsie’s cheek. “Daddy called you Mrs. Carson.”

“Yes, he did. That’s who I am now.”

“Does that mean you married Carson?”

Charles answered from behind them. “It does, Miss Sybie.”

Sybie smiled as she looked up at him. “Hello, Carson.”

“Hello. You’ve grown since I saw you last.”

“Yes. I’m in school now.”

“Oh my. And do you like it?”

“I do, though some of my classmates speak oddly.”

Elsie laughed and shook her head. “This coming from a lassie who’s father is Irish.”

“And who’s surrogate grandmother is Scottish.” Tom added.

“Poppy, who is her?” Elsie May asked as she frowned down at the girl taking up Elsie’s attention.

John looked at Anna and raised an eyebrow. There little lass was jealous. “She’s Miss Sybie. She loves Mrs. Carson, too.”

“I have to share Grammy?”

“Yes, Elsie May.”

“But I don’t have to share my name.”

John had to bite back a laugh at the look of triumph on the girl’s face. “No. Just you and Grammy are Elsie.”

 

~*~

 

Beryl studied her friend as she danced with Charles. Something had changed between them and she wondered what it could be. Elsie seemed to be calmer.

Easier? Beryl wondered if that was the right word.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice Isobel come up next to her. “She’s beautiful today.”

Beryl started then turned to look at Isobel. “Yes, she is. Something’s changed.”

Isobel smiled and nodded. She knew what the change was, she’d recognized it the minute she’d spotted Elsie and Charles come into the church. “Yes, it has. She’s Charles’ wife.”

Beryl frowned. “Of course she is. What the,” she stopped, her eyes going wide as she realized what Isobel meant. “Oh. Has she told you?”

Isobel shook her head. “I just recognized the shift.”

“How?”

“I’m married. I remember how different I was when I’d been with my first husband for the first time. You seem to carry yourself different. You’re,” she shook her head. “You’re what Elsie is.”

Beryl watched Elsie as she titled her head back and laughed at something Charles had said to her. “I know she was struggling. She’d told me how close they were getting.”

“I knew it, too. I’m happy for her.”

“I’m happy for them.” Beryl whispered.

“Yes.”

“She’s come a long way since Charles brought her home.”

“She’s happy and her sassy self. She’ll never be the Elsie she once was, but at least she’s not the Elsie Charles brought to the hospital all bundled up in blankets and hid from prying eyes.”

“What are the two of you chatting about?” Richard asked as he stopped beside Isobel, his hand sliding around her waist and resting on her hip.

“Those two.” Beryl nodded her head toward Charles and Elsie.

“They do seem to love to dance.” Richard smiled, recognizing the shift in the couple as he watched them. “Seems things have changed,” he whispered.

“Which is what we were discussing.” Isobel winked at her husband. “They’re happy, Richard.”

“Prayers answered, Love.”

 

~*~

 

Charles watched Elsie as she stood staring at the shell resting on the mantel of their fireplace. He had hid it away the day before marrying Elsie and bringing her to the cottage, thinking to keep her from reliving that day at the beach and everything that followed.

“When did you find it?” he asked quietly, not wanting to startle her, though he should have known that she already knew he was there. She’d always had an uncanny knack for that.

“A few days ago.” Elsie answered then turned to look at him. “Why did you hide it?”

“I didn’t want you to be reminded.”

Elsie cocked her head as she studied his face. “But it was a good day, Charlie.”

“A day that’s been tarnished by everything that happened after.”

“That day is the only thing that isn’t tarnished.” Elsie whispered as she walked to where he stood. Taking his hand in hers, she smiled as she looked at them, marveling at how small her hand was against his. “The first year, I thought about that day by the sea all of the time. I dreamed of the feel of your hand in mine, of the sound of your voice as you told me I’d managed to make what I said sound risqué.” Lifting his hand, she pressed a kiss to the palm. “That day was all that I had, Charlie. After that, I was so lost I stopped thinking of that day, of you, of anything but making it through the day. Do you know, I dreamed of you just before the day you found me. It was just a dream. A dream of what it would be like to be openly in love with you. We had a life together in the dream.”

Tugging Elsie gently into him, he smiled down at her. “I dreamed of you on the train. It was much the same as your dream. We were happy and in love.”

“Maybe our minds were trying to tell us something.”

“Or our hearts.”

Elsie smiled. “Old softie,” she whispered.

“Haven’t I always been?”

“When you would let yourself be.”

“I love you, Elsie Carson.”

“Mmm,” she murmured, tugging him to bend down. “Then show me.”

Grinning, he cupped her face. “Oh, most definitely. I enjoy showing you that I love you this way.”

“I enjoy it too, but Charlie, don’t ever doubt that I knew how much you loved me before we got to this point. Everything you’ve done this past year, I know that you did it for me because you love me. The way you look at me, the way your eyes go soft, the timbre of your voice – all of it let’s me know, Charlie. I love you. Thank you for polishing the tarnish.”

“Oh no, Elsie. You never were. Never.”

“But to society I was, and to many other men, I still would be, especially after what was done to me.”

“Well, more’s the pity.” Charles caressed a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “I never saw you that way, Elsie. You have to know that.”

“I do, you dear sweet man.”

“None of your friends did.”

“I know, and I bless them all. Now, stop talking.”

Charles gave her a sketchy salute then swept her up into his arms. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Elsie laughed as she cupped his face, her bright blue eyes staring into his dark ones. “Charlie Carson, you daft man. Take me to bed.”

“Gladly, Wife. Gladly.”

Elsie smiled at that. “Wife. I like that.”

“So do I.”

 

~*~

 

Elsie shivered at the way Charles’ gaze moved over her as she dropped her dressing gown, surprising him by not having a stitch on underneath. She winked when he looked up at her, his eyes darker than usual, his breath a bit erratic. “Charlie?”

“Elsie, dear heaven. You’re beautiful,” he breathed as he managed to shrug out of his robe. “I see we had the same surprise in mind.”

Elsie smiled. “We think alike more than we thought.”

“Seems so.” Charles whispered as he settled into the bed and held out his hand.

Taking his outstretched hand, Elsie settled on her side facing her husband. Cupping his hand, she placed it on her breast, letting her eyes close when he gently kneaded. “Oh yes, Charlie. Just like that.”

Charles watched Elsie’s face, smiled when her eyes closed and a gasp escaped her lips. She was beautiful to him always, but seeing her enjoying a man’s touch – his touch – made her seem even more beautiful. He knew that the physical was only part of life, of marriage, but knowing what she’d been through at the hands of the bastard that had claimed to be her husband, this was important.

Being able to enjoy being with a man was the last piece of the puzzle of healing Elsie.

Nuzzling her nose, he pressed a kiss to her lips, moaning when her mouth opened to his. She tasted of the sweets they’d had at the party, the wine they’d shared when they’d returned home, and what he recognized as a taste that was uniquely her. It was glorious. _She_ was glorious.

Elsie whimpered when Charles broke the kiss then gasped when his mouth suckled a taut nipple inside, rolling it against the roof of his mouth as he slid his hand over her thigh, gently lifting her leg up and resting it over his. “Charlie!” she cried out when his hand touched her center.

Charles listened to the noises she was making, the sounds making his blood pump harder through his veins. The sound of her voice, low and throaty, would slowly be his undoing if he didn’t keep his mind focused on pleasuring her.

“Please,” she whimpered.

Watching his wife come undone with pleasure would never grow old. “You’re beautiful, Elsie. Beautiful,” he whispered as he pressed forward, slowly joining his body with hers.

Elsie pressed kisses to Charles’ neck, moaning when he began to move against her. “Mmm, oh yes. That’s wonderful,” she panted. Her body moved with Charles’, her fingernails marking the skin of his shoulder where she clung to him.

Charles felt her body rising to a peak again, and quickened the pace, his own control nearly gone. “That’s it,” he encouraged then lost all control when Elsie cried out the words she always did, words he couldn’t understand, words he was sure his wife would never tell him their meaning.

Elsie fell back on the bed, her hands resting on her stomach as she tried desperately to control her pounding heart and ragged breathing. Opening her eyes, she looked over at Charles and laughed. “My word, Charlie! What a sight we are!”

Charles grinned as he looked at her. “What’s so funny?”

“Your hair is sticking up. All those curls mussed all over your head.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Well, yours is a bit of a mess too.” Turning on his side, he smoothed her hair with his hand. “You’re still the most beautiful woman in the world, Elsie Carson.”

“Oh Charlie. More of your polishing?”

Charles laughed and shook his head. “No. Truth. You need no polishing.”

“You gorgeous, sweet man. I love you so very much, Charles Carson. More than I can ever tell you,” she whispered as she turned over and snuggled back against him. “Sweet dreams, my man.”

“Sweet dreams, Lass. I love you.”


End file.
